


Back To Us

by DarkReyna16



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: (Adrienette), (LadyNoir), (all who are surprised raise your hand...), (in the first chapter no less hoo boy), Angst, F/M, Fluff, Minor Character Death, Miraculous!Alya, Partners to Rivals to Partners to Lovers, Reveal Fic, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Superhero Shenanigans, miraculous!nino
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-07-16 04:53:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 446,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7253290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkReyna16/pseuds/DarkReyna16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a reveal so shocking it rocks the core of Paris itself, the villain Hawk Moth is finally defeated...at a great personal cost to heroes Ladybug and Chat Noir. With the city safe, they go their separate ways, returning to the lives they were forced to put on hold since receiving their Miraculous.</p><p>Now, seven years later, Marinette Dupain-Cheng is on the rise, studying at the fashion college of her dreams by day, working at her dream internship by afternoon...and occasionally moonlighting as Ladybug by night. This routine is set so firmly in place that, once it's shattered by an old-yet-new enemy, and the reappearances of a cold friend and a hot partner, the whiplash threatens to send Marinette spiraling down into chaos.</p><p>As Ladybug, she can do anything...but soon those limits will be tested, whether she is in or out of the costume.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEP.
> 
> Normally I don't like writing fanfic for stuff that's in-progress: I like to know what is for sure canon before I obliterate it or ignore it or incorporate it in my stories.
> 
> But this hiatus is KILLING ME, and hey, it's fanfic for a reason. :D
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

            Her breath was ragged, muscles straining, crying out for relief. Even with her transformation still holding, she was feeling the heat.

            But Ladybug would not falter. She could not afford to. Not when they were so close, when they finally had Hawk Moth right where they wanted him…

            “On your left!”

            The warning came just in time for Ladybug to arc out of the way, her body twisting away from the attack sent towards her. She breathed a tiny sigh of relief, landing briefly on a rooftop before she sent her trusty yo-yo out once more, glancing over to the black shape that paused beside her.

            “Thanks, Chat,” she praised her partner, privately amused as his ears perked up, green eyes sparkling. So quick to let such minor thanks get to his head…

            “Of course, My Lady,” he replied in his typical fashion, a smirk twisting his lips, causing Ladybug to roll her eyes. Neither of them could be distracted for long tonight, however—focusing again in the distance, they could just make out the dark figure fleeing from them amongst a cloud of butterflies, butterflies he regularly sent towards them in a swarm in an attempt to throw them off. But Ladybug and Chat Noir would not be deterred.

            They were so close to ending this reign of terror in Paris, once and for all.

            With a quick nod to each other, the crime-fighting duo took to the skies once again, Ladybug soaring around with the help of her yo-yo, and Chat Noir clattering from roof to roof on all fours, both their sights set on the retreating figure that was Hawk Moth as he fled. Ladybug still had no idea why he had chosen to reveal himself to them tonight, in person—perhaps he was tired of his champions failing him all the time, and had come to do the job that ought to have been done himself ages ago. Perhaps whatever he needed their Miraculous for simply couldn’t wait any longer. Whatever his reason, their fight had been long and arduous, but once it became clear that he could not best the both of them, he was now attempting to retreat, and no doubt resume his evil schemes at first chance.

            But he would not be given that chance again.

            Not if Ladybug had anything to say about it.

            “You can’t fly forever, Hawk Moth!” She called at the villain’s back as she and Chat Noir swooped closer and closer to their enemy, despite wave after wave of butterflies that he shot at them. For some reason, it didn’t strike him to akumatize any of the late-night citizens watching their high-speed chase—perhaps he needed time he didn’t have to do that? Ladybug wouldn’t complain; they had already had enough trouble with Hawk Moth’s akumas before tonight. Enough was enough.

            As they pursued him across the rooftops, Ladybug kept her eyes open, intending to spy any opportunity to slow him up. And the opportunity presented itself in the twin chimneys just a little ways away, a perfect distance from each other to suit Ladybug’s needs.

            “Keep on him!” She instructed Chat Noir as she swung away, “I have a plan!”

            “Right!” Chat Noir poured on the speed, cat eyes narrowed on Hawk Moth’s back. Ladybug trusted he would make just enough trouble to make Hawk Moth feel the heat, evidenced by the butterflies Hawk Moth sent at him. She only had a little time to pull this off—Hawk Moth would notice too soon that she was no longer with Chat, and she couldn’t let him catch on before she executed her plan.

            As tempting as it was to use her Lucky Charm for her purposes, Ladybug couldn’t run the risk of something crazy popping out, and so she deferred to her ever-reliable yo-yo, touching down behind the nearest chimney. So focused on her task was she, whirling the yo-yo to the opposite chimney and pulling the string taut, that Ladybug, in her haste, missed a crucial, life-altering detail.

            She only took notice of it as Hawk Moth, apparently eager to shake his pursuer, fell right into her trap.

            Ladybug gasped as he tripped, tall form flailing, toppling over the edge of the roof, yet he still managed to be graceful, like a butterfly—

            A butterfly without wings.

            As he tripped, Hawk Moth lost his grip on his cane, and therefore seemed unable to call his butterflies to his aid. And so he fell, head-first, plummeting to the streets of Paris.

            “NO!”

            Ladybug wrenched her yo-yo away from the chimney, speeding to the edge of the roof. A frantic kind of energy lanced through her as she sent it out, desperate to catch Hawk Moth before he could fall further than was allowed—it couldn’t happen. Ladybug wanted him to pay for his crimes against Paris, of course, but to pay _this_ way—

            “Hawk Moth!” She shouted desperately as the villain whirled in mid-air, turning to face her, his dark eyes wide with fear, “Grab my yo-yo!”

            Needing no other invitation, Hawk Moth reached out, scrabbling for the yo-yo. His fingers grazed the disk—

            _CRUNCH._

Ladybug stood at the edge of the roof, in shock.

            No…it couldn’t have happened. It could not have happened…

            Chat Noir was there and gone; he spared her a glance as he passed, but Ladybug wouldn’t meet it, afraid she would see the terrible accusation in his eyes, the accusation she could feel burning within her, clawing up her throat, searing her skin—

            A crowd was beginning to form, the hushed murmur making everything worse. In a haze, Ladybug jumped down to the street, numb with shock.

            Hawk Moth was barely stirring. It was with dim hope that Ladybug prayed that his suit absorbed most of the shock, that he would survive the fall—

            As if Fate was eager to snuff out the thin ray of hope, with a flash, Hawk Moth’s transformation began to come undone, slowly and slowly, the power leaving him until all that remained—

            Ladybug’s gasp was lost in a sea of surprised exclamation.

            “Gabriel Agreste!” Someone whispered nearby, shock rippling through the crowd, echoing through Ladybug, clawing under her skin.

            Gabriel Agreste…

            Ladybug sank to her knees next to the fallen fashion icon, her breath hitching in her chest.

            “I didn’t mean to,” she managed to splutter, wide blue eyes staring, unable to tear her gaze away from her crime. “I—I’m sorry. I never meant—”

            “It…is fine…” Gabriel Agreste managed to choke out. Ladybug jumped as he offered his hand to her, something clenched within it. “I…have failed…thus…I am…unworthy…”

            “Someone call an ambulance!” Someone in the crowd shouted, and the noise level increased, but Ladybug was still able to hear the whimpered words of Gabriel Agreste, his every breath seeming a struggle.

            “Take it…” He pushed the thing into Ladybug’s hands, and she cupped her fingers around it, glancing down at a small pendant winged with gossamer fabric.

            Hawk Moth’s Miraculous…

            Mr. Agreste coughed, and Ladybug was dealt another blow as she bore witness to the blood coating his lip from such an action. The crowd continued to shift around them, and the distant call of a siren could be heard.

            “My son…” He rasped, eyes fixed on a point over Ladybug’s shoulder. “My son…I am…so sorry…I only…wanted…what…was best…”

            His hand lifted again, as if to reach out for someone, but suddenly, the light within his eyes vanished, and his hand dropped back to the ground. He did not move again.

            Ladybug did not know how long she knelt there, staring down at the still form of Gabriel Agreste. She was barely aware when the police and the EMTs arrived, ushering the crowd back as they lifted the body into the ambulance. There were news reporters everywhere, cameras and microphones shoved in her face, but she could feel nothing, nothing.

            Gabriel Agreste—Hawk Moth—was dead.

            And it was all her fault.

            There was a dim pressure on her arm. In a trance, Ladybug looked over, spotting the back of Chat Noir as he led her away. The reporters attempted to follow, of course, so Chat poured on the speed. Ladybug followed him, her instincts taking over, and together, they fled to where no reporter, no matter how determined, could follow.

            The heroes only paused when they were so high up that the world below seemed ages away. They stood at the top of the Eiffel Tower, as if their vigilance meant something.

            As if Ladybug hadn’t just shredded their world apart with a single, stupid mistake.

            Chat Noir stood sentinel beside her, for once, silent.

            And Ladybug looked down at the city she loved, thinking of its citizens, its people…how there was one less among them…and what that meant now.

            Her hand closed tightly around the Miraculous in her hand. The kwami did not appear—whether by choice or by inability, Ladybug didn’t know or care. She would honestly prefer not to meet the fairy whose master she just killed…but its disapproval was the last thing on her mind.

            “Adrien…”

            The name slipped from her finally, as it had been buzzing around in her mind for the last…how long had it been? She had no way of knowing. Time had lost meaning, now.

            Chat’s head snapped towards her, his ears forward as he stared at her.

            “What?” He sounded off, his voice too throaty. He was probably struggling with what happened about as much as she was. Ladybug tried to take some comfort from that.

            “Adrien Agreste,” she said, her heart pounding in her throat. “I…h-he doesn’t know. What happened. I…I have to tell him.”

            The very thought sent a ripple of fear through her.

            To tell Adrien—Adrien Agreste, the boy she loved—that she was responsible for his father’s death…what would he say?

            Ladybug swallowed. Although she was afraid, it wasn’t right to leave things like this. She had to tell Adrien what happened to his father…what she did. She had to—

            Just as she turned to leave, her arm was seized.

            “Ladybug.” The voice behind her was flat, emotionless. “Don’t.”

            “What do you mean, ‘don’t’?” She asked him, turning towards Chat, finally meeting his eyes for the first time since…since it happened. Chat’s eyes usually glittered brighter than usual during the night—it was his domain, after all. Tonight, however, there was no spark, no impishness, nothing. His eyes were flat, just like his voice, and it scared Ladybug.

            “Let the police handle it,” he advised her. Appalled, Ladybug pulled her arm free of his grip.

            “The _police?_ I can’t do that! Adrien, he—”

            “Ladybug, _think,_ ” Chat suddenly snarled at her, seizing her shoulders and making her stay put. There was something burning in his eyes now, and Ladybug flinched, avoiding his gaze, unwilling to see the disappointment there, to witness his lost faith in her with her own two eyes— “If you stroll in there tonight and just…just _tell_ him that his father’s dead…what would he think of you?”

            And that was it: Chat Noir said the very thing that Ladybug feared, and it made her throat close up.

            There was no doubt about it, how Adrien would react if Ladybug dared to tell him how his father died—he would _hate_ her.

            ‘ _He would hate Ladybug,_ ’ her thoughts corrected, but it wasn’t much help—she _was_ Ladybug, so in the end, it amounted to the same thing.

            If Adrien hated Ladybug, he would hate her.

            And if he hated her…

            Her shoulders slumped in defeat. As if he felt the fight leave her, Chat Noir’s hands slid away from her shoulders. Ladybug was a little surprised—she sort of expected him to try and cheer her up some way, possibly hug her, or assure her that what happened wasn’t her fault.

            He didn’t. He just stood there, staring at her.

            Judging her.

            Ladybug took a shuddering breath, her hands closing around her elbows, as if it would help her sudden, staggering helplessness. The Miraculous she held dug into her elbow, bringing it to her attention once again.

            “Hawk Moth’s Miraculous—”

            Chat Noir reached out, taking it into his clawed grasp.

            “I’ll take it to Master Fu,” he said, and Ladybug jolted with the knowledge that Chat knew the old master, too. But of course, he must—Master Fu was the guardian of the Miraculous, the one who gave her and Chat Noir these powers in the first place.

            The powers that Ladybug had grievously and foolishly misused in her desperation to beat Hawk Moth, once and for all…

            “Chat,” she said quietly as the leather-clad superhero made his way to the edge of the tower, withdrawing his extending staff. He paused, sparing her a glance over his shoulder, a glance that spoke volumes of what Ladybug must have done to their partnership as well, with such a terrible mistake. Swallowing against the lump in her throat, Ladybug forced the words out of her mouth that would not make the situation better, but would, perhaps, lessen her grief a little more— “Chat, I’m—”

            “I don’t blame you, Ladybug,” Chat cut her off, turning to face away as he said it. His ears were pressed against his shaggy blonde hair. “We all make the decisions we have to. You made yours…and so did Hawk Moth.”

            The words didn’t make her feel any better. Ladybug stepped forward, poised to say more, to attempt to make Chat understand just how much she did not want this to happen, but he was already gone, vaulting from the tower and disappearing into the night. Ladybug watched him go, her throat constricted, the sound of her beeping Miraculous eventually spurring her into movement. She headed for home, fighting her tears the whole way until she was able to drop into her skylight, shake off the transformation, and then curl into a ball on her bed, her shuddering breaths painful.

            Ladybug had failed. _She_ had failed.

            Her job was to protect the city, but that didn’t make it okay to murder the villains, even if it was an accident.

            And the worst part?

            A tiny, tiny part of her was _relieved_ —relieved that there would be no more Hawk Moth to terrorize the city and interrupt her normal, everyday life.

            No more Hawk Moth…which meant there was no more need for Ladybug.

            “Marinette?”

            Marinette burrowed her face into her pillow. She did not want to see Tikki, did not want to see those big, indigo eyes judging her as well. Chat Noir was obviously disappointed in her, and that was bad in its own way, but _Tikki_ being disappointed in her? How could Marinette live with herself?

            “It’s okay, Marinette,” the kwami tried anyway, despite Marinette’s refusal to look at her. “I don’t blame you. You only did what you thought was right.”

            “Tikki,” Marinette sobbed, unable to stop the tears now. “I didn’t mean to _kill_ him.”

            “You didn’t, Marinette, you didn’t. It was an accident.”

            “An accident that _killed someone!_ ” Marinette cried, crossing her arms over her head, as if it could shield her from the wave of guilt roaring over her head, threatening to pull her under so deep that she would never be able to surface for air again. “I—I was so desperate to finally catch him that I didn’t _think,_ Tikki, I didn’t realize that I was standing on the edge of a roof until it was too late, and now he’s—he’s…”

            Marinette sobbed, the scene replaying over and over in her mind: Hawk Moth’s eyes contracting with fear, his fingers scraping her yo-yo as she tried to rectify her mistake, the sound his body made when it hit the concrete—

            “I killed him, Tikki,” she moaned, soaking her pillow with her tears. “He’s never going to come back…and now Adrien has _no one_ …because of _me._ ”

            Nothing Tikki said made any difference—Marinette was inconsolable, crying until there was no moisture left in her body to exhaust, and she dry-heaved, but her stomach was too knotted for her to even vomit.

            Despite the events of the night before, the sun rose dutifully as always, though Marinette felt it was out of spite today, forcing her to face the day before she was ready. Her unusual quiet might have alerted her parents to the fact that something was wrong, but they were both glued to the news broadcast, the announcement flashing all over Paris:

            “GABRIEL AGRESTE, FASHION ICON, SECRET VILLAIN HAWK MOTH, DEAD. LADYBUG AND CHAT NOIR VICTORIOUS.”

            Marinette hated it. Not only did she not want Ladybug’s name to be stained with such a crime, but to drag Chat Noir into it, when he hadn’t even done anything wrong—it sickened her. She wished she could talk to him, to see how he was faring with this whole fiasco, but all too soon, it was time for her to leave for school.

            Francoise Dupont was abuzz, students talking in excited whispers as they passed through the school. Marinette passed through them, letting her best friend Alya chat at her rather than talking to her—she had apparently been there last night, and had filmed the whole, devastating moment.

            “It was…” She paused for a moment, the tip of her tongue tracing the roof of her mouth. Ultimately, she shook her head, as if words would not do her thoughts justice. “Really, all I can say is that Ladybug did her job, one way or another.”

            “Then you approve?” Marinette asked before she could stop herself as they trudged to homeroom. “Of what she did?”

            Alya frowned at this.

            “Well…I wish there was a different way,” she admitted, looking uncomfortable for a moment. “And I _really_ wish the bad guy hadn’t been Adrien’s father…but, y’know. Life can’t always turn out the way you want it to. At least our classmates won’t suddenly turn into monsters anymore just because they have a bad day, right? It’s hard enough, dealing with teenage hormones without _that_ getting in the way.”

            Leave it to Alya to focus on the positives, Marinette supposed. She was feeling marginally better at this point, but then they entered homeroom, and she found Adrien’s chair unoccupied. That sent her mood plummeting straight into the pit once again.

            “Hey,” Nino greeted them, looking how Marinette felt on the inside.

            “Hey,” Alya returned, laying a hand on Nino’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “How’re you holding up, champ?”

            Nino gave a shrug.

            “I’m fine. It’s not me I’m worried about, anyway.” He cast a sideways glance at the bench beside him, as if staring long and hard enough would make Adrien pop into existence. “He hasn’t answered any of my texts or calls.”

            “He just needs some time,” Alya claimed wisely. “I don’t blame him for wanting to stay home—did you see the flock of reporters swarming the school outside? _Yeesh._ ”

            “His house can’t be much better.” Nino tapped the desk with his fingers, an agitated rhythm flowing through the beat. “Man, this sucks. I don’t wanna be here—I don’t even think I could focus. I want to check up on him.”

            “We’ll go after school,” Alya assured him with another squeeze to his shoulder. Nino sighed, but one of his hands reached up, squeezing Alya’s hand in return.

            Miss Bustier walked in at that moment, and the chatter died down relatively quickly. She paused, setting her belongings on the desk, her gaze going briefly to Adrien’s empty seat before she addressed the class.

            “I know many of you are…concerned…about what happened last night,” she said delicately, brushing that stray strand of red hair that always came loose from her bun out of her face. “Many of us are shocked, I’m sure, about what happened.”

            “I don’t believe a word of it!” Came an outburst from the front row. Marinette’s gaze shifted, feeling only a mild spark of irritation as Chloe Bourgeois slammed her hands on the desk in front of her, baby blue eyes livid. “There is absolutely _no way_ Adrien’s father was responsible! I smell a cover-up!”

            “The Ladyblog has the reveal recorded,” Kim pointed out with a shrug of his shoulders.

            “True, it does,” Alya agreed, and Marinette detected just a hint of pride in her best friend’s voice. “But even if it weren’t, why would Ladybug lie about something so important?”

            “There must have been some mistake!” Chloe persisted stubbornly. “Uncle Gabriel was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time! Or, he could’ve been blackmailed into being there, dressed as Hawk Moth, and Ladybug mistook him for the real thing!”

            “Ladybug would _never_ make a mistake like that!” Alya argued, getting heated now as she leaned across the desk to glare at Chloe. “She’s a superhero!”

            “She’s been fooled before! And besides, did she _have_ to push him off the roof?! Why wasn’t capturing him good enough?!”

            Marinette felt her face drain of blood.

            “She didn’t _push_ him! He fell!”

            “She was still involved,” Sabrina pointed out, though she looked slightly uncomfortable doing so. “She tripped him.”

            “It was an accident!” Alya persisted, slamming her fist into the desk.

            “Oh really?” Chloe sneered, pointing a perfectly manicured nail towards the empty seat besides Nino. “Try telling that to Adrien!”

            Adrien.

            Marinette felt tears well up in her eyes once again.

            Adrien wasn’t here. Adrien had lost his father because of her.

            Adrien was _suffering_ because of her.

            “That’s enough,” Miss Bustier called, sternly cutting through the impromptu class debate. Silence fell, silence that felt stifling to Marinette. “What’s done is done. Despite our…personal feelings about the matter, nothing can be done to change it. Class will continue as usual today, and despite last night’s events, I expect you all to give your full attention to your studies—”

            “Miss Bustier,” Marinette interrupted, her voice small, yet still, somehow, carrying. “I don’t feel very well. May I please be excused?”

            Miss Bustier looked Marinette up and down, appearing to appraise her. It was true that Marinette was infamous for wild excuses as for why she was often tardy—or often missing—class: a bear took off with her purse, she thought she left the oven on, there was a stray kitten she had to rescue from a tree, things of that nature. She offered up no excuse this time, and Miss Bustier must have registered the paleness of her face and the moisture in her eyes, for her green eyes softened.

            “All right, Marinette,” she allowed with a decisive nod, “have your parents call the school when you return, and I will excuse you for the day.”

            Marinette nodded, picking up her school bag and moving stiffly to the door, feeling the eyes of her classmates trail behind her.

            Marinette didn’t feel any better as she stood on the steps of her school. Chloe’s words, though Marinette had trained herself not to react to them as the year wore on, cut deep this time. She didn’t know what Adrien was told by the police, but surely he knew at this point, didn’t he? That she was responsible for his misery? That she had killed…

            ‘ _I need to see him._ ’

            That singular thought was what pushed Marinette off school grounds, not towards home, but towards the mansion she knew Adrien resided in. He had to be home…if he agreed to see her, then Marinette would…what? Apologize? For what? She was Marinette right now, not Ladybug. And though that could change with a simple transformation, Tikki tucked safely away in her purse as usual…did she dare to show her face to Adrien? Especially with the mask on?

            Swallowing, Marinette made her way to Adrien’s place of residence on foot. If he didn’t agree to see Marinette…well, as Ladybug, she would figure it out from there. She just had to see him—

            A large crowd of reporters blocked the entrance of the mansion from view. Cameras were held at the ready, reporters speaking urgently into their microphones, looking serious. But that wasn’t what caught Marinette’s attention.

            A large truck idled in front of the Agreste Mansion, and, as Marinette watched, boxes were being removed from the mansion…boxes labeled things like ‘clothes’ and ‘dishwear’.

            The lump that had been lodged in her throat since last night grew impossibly larger.

            Suddenly, the flock of reporters grew excited, cameras flashing brightly, calling out, “Mr. Agreste! Mr. Agreste!”

            Marinette’s eyes snapped to the entrance of the mansion, somehow expecting, by some miracle, to see Gabriel Agreste standing there, sternly surveying the crowd.

            But it was Adrien.

            Marinette surged forward, elbowing her way through the crowd to the front, but was promptly pulled up short by the ring of bodyguards that surrounded the entrance of the mansion, preventing the reporters from edging any closer. Marinette peeked under the nearest bodyguard’s arm, watching with her heart thumping wildly as Adrien descended the steps, a stern-looking woman at his side—Nathalie, Marinette was sure her name was. They were both dressed head to toe in black, as if wishing to be discreet, but from the look on Adrien’s face, it appeared to be more than just the desire for privacy that drove his wardrobe choice. Her heart constricted, watching as Nathalie muttered something to Adrien, her hand on his shoulder. He nodded once, and they headed for the limo parked outside the gate. As he turned towards it, Marinette spotted the duffel bag on his shoulder…the very full, very permanent-looking duffel bag…

            “Adrien!” She was suddenly crying out, disregarding the bodyguard, who attempted to push her back. “Adrien! Adrien!!”

            Somehow, amidst all the people crying for his attention, Adrien heard her. He glanced up, locking gazes with her, his usually bright green eyes dull.

            The sight hurt Marinette far worse than she was expecting it to.

            He said something to Nathalie, who frowned, but nonetheless nodded. Approaching swiftly, she tapped the bodyguard blocking Marinette on the shoulder.

            “Adrien would like to see this young lady,” she said briskly. The bodyguard frowned just like her, but he ultimately shifted to the side, allowing just enough room for Marinette to slide through. Shooting Nathalie a grateful look, she moved forward, her shyness returning as she approached Adrien.

            “Uhm, h-hi, Adrien,” she stammered, wanting sorely to kick herself…or disappear into the earth. One of the two.

            A corner of Adrien’s mouth quirked up.

            “Hi, Marinette,” he greeted, and Marinette hated herself for the thrill that still shot through her from him speaking her name.

            ‘ _Get a hold of yourself,_ ’ she told herself sternly, looking up at him as he paused next to the limo, hand resting on the door. She meant to ask him how he was—though she could guess, what with the circles that lined his eyes—but what came out instead was:

            “Where are you going?”

            “Ah…” Adrien glanced away from her. “Milan.”

            “Mi—” Marinette hastily corrected her squawk of surprise, abruptly wary of the crowd of reporters snapping pictures of and filming them, desperate to catch every word. “Milan?” She repeated in a much quieter voice.

            “Yeah.” Adrien hoisted the duffel bag higher on his shoulder. “I have some family there, on my mom’s side. I’m going to go live with them for a while.”

            “Oh…”

            Marinette didn’t know what to say. She had been so focused on the tragedy that had occurred that she didn’t even think of how it would continue to affect Adrien. Why didn’t she realize that he wouldn’t be able to stay in Paris like this? Not with both of his parents…gone.

            The sadness must have shown on her face, for Adrien reached out, resting a hand on her shoulder.

            “Don’t look like that, Marinette,” he encouraged softly, still attempting a brave smile. “I’ll be all right. I just…need to get away for a while. Let things calm down.”

            “Right,” Marinette muttered. Her heart gave a painful squeeze as the warmth of Adrien’s hand left her shoulder.

            “I’ll keep in touch,” he promised. Marinette looked up at him then, into those bright green eyes she so admired—green eyes that held all the pain of the world currently sitting on Adrien’s shoulders. If what he needed was to get away, then Marinette couldn’t possibly begrudge his leaving. If it helped him to run from his father’s wrongdoings in Paris—from such an awful legacy—then Marinette only had to smile and wish him well.

            But…

            “I’ll miss you,” she mumbled, dropping her gaze immediately to her shoes, unable to face him as her face flooded with heat. Adrien laughed a little, the sound strained.

            “I’ll miss you, too. You were a good friend to me, Mari.”

            Mari. A nickname.

            And she had been a good _friend_ to him.

            Marinette’s head snapped up once again, desperation driving her now. He said he’d keep in touch, but how could Marinette trust that he actually would? Wouldn’t he be busy settling into a new place, a new school, making new friends…maybe meeting a girl he liked…

            As soon as he was gone, wouldn’t he just forget all about someone like Marinette?

            “Adrien,” she began, her heart hammering in her throat, as if it yearned to be free of her body, “I…I…”

            ‘ _Just say it!_ ’ Her mind screamed, but she choked on the words, as if her body was rebelling. Still, her mind persisted. ‘ _Say it already! He could be gone forever after this! Tell him how you feel!_ ’

            Marinette wished for Ladybug’s persona, for her strength. Ladybug would be able to tell him how she felt, that she had been head over heels in love with him ever since that fateful rainy day he held out his umbrella to an obstinate girl with the wrong impression of him. She would be able to tell him that she loved him…

            But Ladybug had killed his father.

            And Marinette was Ladybug.

            She couldn’t tell him. She didn’t deserve to let him know how she felt.

            Adrien gave her a curious look, but suddenly, Nathalie was there.

            “We must go, Adrien. Your flight leaves in an hour.”

            “Right…” Adrien pushed his duffel bag into the back of the car and climbed in after it, Nathalie getting into the car from the other side. Marinette stared at her own reflection in the car window as the door slammed shut, but the window whirred down, revealing Adrien’s face once again. That painful smile was still on his face, green eyes unbearably sad as he gazed at her.

            She didn’t deserve to look at him.

            “Well…bye, Marinette.”

            Marinette’s lip trembled. She raised a hand in half-hearted farewell, unable to say anything, for fear that she would burst into tears the minute she dared to open her mouth.

            With nothing left to say, the window whirred back into place, and Marinette was stuck with her face mirrored back at her for just a moment before the car pulled away, bodyguards forming a protective line to allow the car to speed away, news vans giving chase as soon as their equipment was packed up. A few lingered behind, daring to question Marinette, but she was so unresponsive that they quickly lost interest and packed up as well. Marinette cast one last look at the now empty Agreste mansion before slowly trudging home.

            Adrien was gone. Mr. Agreste was dead.

            And it was all—all of it, every single bit of it—Ladybug’s fault.

            Her fault.

 

* * *

 

            Chat Noir was nowhere to be found.

            Though Ladybug searched high and low for him three nights in a row, calling him on her communicator and visiting all their usual patrol haunts, she just couldn’t catch a glimpse of the leather-clad cat boy. And that made her very, very uneasy.

            ‘ _He said he didn’t blame me,_ ’ Ladybug reminded herself as she swung through the city, attempting to work off the nervous energy that now possessed her body. ‘ _He said that we all had made our choices, that Hawk Moth basically brought this upon himself…_ ’

            But he could have been lying to make her feel better. He had barely looked at her as he said such words, disappearing into the night with Hawk Moth’s Miraculous…

            …Which he had promised to deliver to Master Fu.

            Ladybug paused, landing on a nearby lamppost as she thought. Master Fu must have seen Chat Noir, then. Maybe he would be able to tell her where he’d gotten himself to.

            Her next course of action assured, Ladybug made her way to the old master’s massage parlor, taking care to avoid the reporters out searching for her. Since Sunday night, they hounded the streets for her, wanting an official statement on what really happened during her last struggle with Hawk Moth. And since Ladybug had been reliving that night in her dreams a little too much lately, she wasn’t very keen on giving the reporters an official statement on anything. It felt too…

            Final.

            Sighing, she dropped down into a safe, dark alley before letting go of her transformation, allowing Tikki to swoop into her purse before she approached the massage parlor. Despite the late hour, the lights were on inside. Marinette knocked, and was invited to enter, surprised to find the door unlocked.

            “Master Fu?” Marinette called as she stepped carefully inside, self-conscious, despite being inside the massage parlor a couple times before. She found the old man off to the side, having tea with a green kwami, a small antenna on its head and a turtle shell attached to its back. Master Fu looked up, smiling at the sight of Marinette.

            “Ah, Ladybug,” he greeted, causing Marinette to blush; though Master Fu had given her the Ladybug Miraculous in the first place, it was still so strange having someone else know her secret identity.

            “I’m sorry to disturb you so late,” she apologized, bowing carefully. Master Fu waved off her concerns.

            “Do not fret, you are not disturbing me. I was simply having a tea break with my good friend Wayzz before my next client.” He gestured to the green kwami sitting upon the table, holding its own, smaller cup of tea. “You remember Wayzz, of course.”

            “Of course.” Marinette waved to Wayzz, who smiled at her, before releasing Tikki from her bag, remembering that it was safe to do so in Master Fu’s presence. Tikki nuzzled into Master Fu’s cheek for a moment before she joined Wayzz on the table.

            “You look troubled, Ladybug,” Master Fu noted as Marinette took a seat on the cushion he offered her. “Would you like some tea?”

            “Thank you, but I don’t think tea can help me,” Marinette answered honestly. Master Fu chuckled, pouring tea from a tea pot that looked like it came straight from ancient China.

            “You’d be surprised at the good a simple cup of tea can do,” he told her, handing the cup over to her. And, Marinette had to admit, whether by truth or by placebo, the warm liquid did help ease the ball of anxiety in her chest a little. “Now, what can I do for you?”

            Marinette stared down into her tea cup, focusing on the murky depths of the tea as she spoke.

            “You…you know what’s happened, don’t you?” She glanced up anxiously at Master Fu. “About…about Hawk Moth. Who he was.” Her head hung again. “What I did.”

            “Mm, yes. I, too, watch the news,” Master Fu said gently. When Marinette dared to peek up at him again, he was looking away, out into space, stroking his beard. “I was very surprised to find that Gabriel Agreste was the perpetrator this whole time. I cannot begin to guess at his motivations…” He turned to Marinette, pinning her with his dark gaze. “Did he say anything to you? Before he…perished?”

            Marinette felt herself go white once more. As much as she didn’t want to relive that night…Master Fu deserved answers. So she took a deep breath, summoning all the grit she could muster as Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

            Surprising herself, it was a lot.

            “He didn’t say much…just about how he failed, and it made him unworthy? And then…” Marinette’s fists tightened in her lap. “He was talking about Adrien…about he was sorry, and how he only wanted what was best for him…”

            “Hmm,” Master Fu hummed, stroking his beard once again. He was quiet for a long time afterwards.

            “That’s when he gave me his Miraculous,” Marinette recalled. This caught Master Fu’s attention quite abruptly.

            “Really? You have his Miraculous?”

            “We don’t,” Tikki piped up from the table, from where she was munching on some sort of biscuit that Master Fu had a plate of to go along with the tea. “Chat Noir has it.”

            “He does?”

            “He was supposed to give it to you,” Marinette said, searching the old master’s face anxiously. “You mean he…didn’t?”

            Master Fu shook his head, looking troubled for the first time since Marinette had known him.

            “No. Sadly, I haven’t seen whisker nor tail of Chat Noir in a while.”

            Now Marinette was _really_ worried.

            Only this time, her worry transformed immediately into irritation.

            “Where _is_ he?!” She huffed, slamming her empty hand onto her thigh in irritation. “I haven’t seen him all week! He didn’t even give you the Butterfly Miraculous like he was supposed to! What is he _doing?_ ”

            “Perhaps Chat Noir has his own business to attend to for now,” said Master Fu mysteriously. That didn’t make Marinette feel any better about the situation, and her pout only grew more pronounced. Before she could rage any more, however, Master Fu derailed her. “But back to Gabriel Agreste…what is to become of his son?”

            If possible, Marinette’s spirits managed to sink even lower.

            “Adrien moved to Milan on Monday,” she reported, her voice hollow. “No one’s heard from him since.”

            And though the whole class felt his loss, it affected Nino most obviously, his enthusiasm for anything seemingly vanishing; he only stared at the walls now, and ate lunch by himself, subdued. Chloe was as nasty as ever, but it seemed to be only out of habit now more than anything, and Marinette…

            Well, Marinette was coping. It helped that no one else knew just how much she felt for Adrien besides Alya, who was tactful enough not to bring him up. Once or twice, she thought about messaging him on Facebook…but then ultimately shut the idea down.

            She was responsible for his father’s death. She had no right to speak to him.

            Master Fu hummed some more.

            “I see.” He stroked his beard again, surveying Marinette. “Well, I hope the young man will be able to turn his life around in a new place.” He gave Marinette a knowing look. “But that is not all you came to see me about, Ladybug.”

            Marinette blushed.

            “H-how—”

            “When you have lived as long as I have,” Master Fu said genially as he refilled his tea cup, “you find that people become more and more easy to read...as long as you know what to look for.” He refilled Marinette’s cup, as well as cups for the kwamis, and simply waited, observing her with keen interest.

            It was those eyes that seemed to know all, so wise in age, yet somehow, so youthfully energetic, that spurred Marinette into speech.

            “I think it’s time I return my Miraculous to you.”

            She regretted the words as soon as she said them—Tikki choked on the biscuit she was eating, and Wayzz had to thump her hard on the back to clear her mouth.

            “Marinette!” She protested, zooming into the air to hover inches from Marinette’s face. “What are you saying?! You can’t just stop being Ladybug!”

            “Why not?” Marinette challenged, growing stubborn, though it was hard to look at Tikki. “Hawk Moth’s…he’s gone. There’s no more need for a superhero if there’s no supervillain, right?”

            “What about other kinds of bad guys? Are you willing to just let them have the city?!”

            “The police can handle regular bad guys. They’re on the same level.”

            “But Paris _needs_ you!”

            “Paris doesn’t need a hero that murders villains!” Marinette shouted, startling Tikki out of the air. The kwami fluttered to the floor, looking up at Marinette with her big, sad, indigo eyes.

            “Marinette…” But it didn’t seem like Tikki had anything to say to her. Marinette watched, with no small amount of guilt, as her kwami—her friend—buzzed sadly back to the table, sitting with her back to Marinette, Wayzz patting her back again, this time in comfort.

            Master Fu said nothing during that whole exchange, watching Marinette again, as if he was watching an interesting T.V. program. Marinette averted her gaze from him.

            “All I’m saying,” she began in a would-be calm voice, “is that it seems, well, greedy, to keep my Miraculous when Paris is no longer in danger.” She traced a finger over the now familiar earrings, the thought of giving them up heartbreaking. A part of her didn’t want to give up being Ladybug—she loved being Ladybug, having the freedom and the power to make a difference in the world.

            But if all she was going to be remembered for from now on was murdering her enemies…

            If that was her legacy, then Marinette was no better than Hawk Moth.

            She didn’t deserve to be Ladybug.

            “…You are heavy with guilt,” Master Fu said after a moment, and Marinette forced herself to meet his eyes. His sad, ancient eyes. “I understand, Ladybug—being a superhero is not easy. There are times when you have to make impossible choices, choices that could eat at you for the rest of your life…if you let them.”

            Master Fu leaned forward, his wrinkled hands reaching forward. Marinette hesitated a second, and then set her tea cup to the side, allowing him to take her hands.

            “Such kind hands,” Master Fu remarked rather cryptically, turning Marinette’s hands over in his own gnarled fingers. “They bear labors of love—burns from the ovens of your parents’ bakery, needle pricks from gifts you’ve sewn for your friends. These are kind, gentle hands, who know what it is to hold a life in them.” He closed Marinette’s hands, eyes going to hers once again. “And these hands now know what it’s like to let a life slip through them.

            “You now know the full value of a life, Ladybug,” Master Fu continued, releasing Marinette’s hands. “Very few people do. It is both a great gift, and a terrible burden—much like being a superhero. And the two are not unrelated.”

            “What does that mean?” Marinette had to ask, confused on where this conversation was going.

            “It means, Ladybug, that because you know the full value of a life now, it makes you even more qualified to be the keeper of the Ladybug Miraculous,” Master Fu explained, much to Marinette’s astonishment. “You alone know what it means to value every human life, no matter how feeble or strong, no matter how pure or tainted. You are the kind of hero that can make the tough decisions—that _will_ make the tough decisions—because you now know both sides of the same coin.” Master Fu smiled at Marinette’s perplexed look. “In short, it is your compassion for your enemy that makes you a hero. Not your Miraculous.”

            Honestly, it was the kind of mystical horse puckey Marinette expected old masters of any trade to spout, when giving their students advice. How many times had she heard advice of the same grain recited in old martial arts films she watched with her dad? Or in the video games she played? Never in her wildest dreams would Marinette believe she’d be hearing something like this in person.

            …But then again, she never dreamed of being a superhero until it happened, either.

            And yet, though she was tempted to brush it off as loony sage advice, the confidence with which Master Fu spoke kept her mulling over the words, like there was still some hidden meaning there that she had yet to discern.

            She had messed up, had taken a life—the life of her enemy. But because she now felt unworthy of the Miraculous she held…that made her even _more_ worthy?

            Marinette honestly didn’t get it. But something in her told her not to disregard the words. After all, Master Fu had been doing this for way longer than she had. He knew what he was talking about.

            “Well…thank you, Master Fu,” she said to him, though she did give him a curious, searching glance as she got to her feet. “I will…consider what you said.”

            “I hope so, Ladybug,” he said, getting to his feet as well, with just a little bit more trouble than Marinette. “Should you need guidance from me again, I’m always here. Or should you just want a friendly chat and a cup of tea, I am here, too.” He smiled. “Don’t be self-conscious about dropping in either way.”

            “Thank you,” Marinette said again, returning his smile. As she turned, heading for the door, a thought struck her, and she glanced over her shoulder. “…Are you coming, Tikki?”

            It was up to her, really—Marinette realized she had hurt the kwami with her thoughtless words, and was planning in the back of her mind on how to make up for that, but if Tikki felt more comfortable staying with Master Fu for the night, Marinette wouldn’t begrudge her that, either.

            Only a second passed before Tikki floated off the table, however, taking her place in Marinette’s bag. Marinette smiled apologetically at the kwami before clasping her bag shut, giving a wave to Master Fu as she left his shop.

            He was right—that tea _did_ make her feel better.

            Later, once her patrol was finished and she was getting ready for bed, Marinette let her thoughts wander back to Chat Noir. He said he would return the Butterfly Miraculous to Master Fu…but then he didn’t. Why not? Where was he? What was he doing now?

            Marinette had no way of knowing, and thus, she put the matter out of her mind. If he didn’t show up within the next couple of weeks, _then_ she would worry. No use fretting over the alley cat if he didn’t want to be found.

            Sighing, Marinette took her hair down and crawled into bed, exhausted. Tikki joined her, as usual, but she was quiet as she settled into the pillow. Marinette’s guilt surged at that, and she scooted closer to the kwami.

            “Tikki?”

            She glanced over, indigo eyes shining in the moonlight from Marinette’s skylight.

            “Marinette?”

            Marinette sucked in a deep breath.

            “I’m sorry,” she whispered to the kwami, “about what I said before. It’s not like I was trying to shirk my duties, and it’s not like I don’t like having you around. You’re one of my best friends. I just…”

            Marinette closed her eyes, beginning to sink back into her self-loathing. Seriously, how could she still be worthy of her Miraculous when she had caused the death of another Miraculous user?

            “Marinette.”

            There was a soft touch on her nose. Marinette opened her eyes, finding the kwami hovering in front of her, a kind smile on her tiny face.

            “I understand,” Tikki assured her, her voice as soft as Marinette’s. “It won’t be easy, getting over what happened. But you will. And when Paris needs you again, you’ll be there, too. Because you’re Ladybug. And because I’ll always be here for you…as Ladybug, and as Marinette.”

            Tears stung Marinette’s eyes, but she smiled, rubbing her kwami’s head.

            “Thank you, Tikki.”

            As Tikki drifted off to sleep, Marinette stayed awake a little longer, staring up at her skylight. Master Fu’s words still haunted her, demanding her attention, chasing away her sleep. What did he mean? She still didn’t get it.

            Sure, Marinette was sorry that Hawk Moth was dead. It was an accident—she hadn’t meant for it to happen, despite what the majority of Paris’ citizens might believe. But at the same time, there was still that tiny, shameful part of her that whispered how relieved she was that the fight was finally over, that she could finally return to some semblance of normal…whatever that was. Wasn’t that the same as killing him on purpose, this tiny, relieved piece inside of her? Wasn’t it the same as wishing for Hawk Moth’s head on the chopping block?

            ‘ _No,_ ’ Marinette stubbornly denied, rolling onto her side, hugging one of her pillows to her. No matter what had happened, no matter what Hawk Moth had thrown at her in his attempt to claim her Miraculous…Marinette would never wish for his death. Not even if he wasn’t Gabriel Agreste, Adrien’s father. Not even if he wasn’t sorry for all the pain and heartache he’d caused the citizens of Paris.

            Whatever his goal was…Hawk Moth was still human. And therefore, his life still had meaning. And anyone who couldn’t see that…just didn’t get it.

            In that final reasoning, Marinette had her answer. And she was able to drift off into a peaceful sleep for the first time in days.

 

* * *

 

            “Ladybug! Ladybug!”

            “Ladybug, over here!”

            “Ladybug, look this way!”

            The camera flashes and voices crying out for her, Ladybug was used to.

            What sucked was the aching emptiness by her side where Chat Noir used to be.

            Still, she tried not to focus on it, and instead raised her hands for silence. A hush fell over the crowd, though cameras still clicked away as she tapped at one of the microphones at the podium, testing it.

            “I thank Mayor Bourgeois for calling this press conference,” Ladybug said first and foremost with a nod the mayor, who looked rather proud of himself. She was a tad annoyed that Chloe had tagged along, of course, but that didn’t matter at the moment—she had more important matters to attend to. “I would like to start off by saying this: what happened to Hawk Moth was very much an accident. While it was my aim to catch him, and while I did set the trap that caused his death, it was not my intention to...kill him. And I will regret it for the rest of my life.”

            There was a momentary silence, a silence Ladybug used to marshal her courage.

            “With that said, I would like to make a promise today to the citizens of Paris,” Ladybug continued, her voice growing stronger with every word she uttered, her posture straight, sincere and determined. “From now on, in my endeavor to protect Paris, I will always make my decisions with the thought of every life involved. Hawk Moth might have caused the citizens pain, but he did not deserve to die for it, nor does any villain or any person who commits a crime. We don’t know what Hawk Moth’s ultimate goal was…and now we never will. Even so, I will not repeat my mistakes. This I promise you.” After a beat, Ladybug added, “I will take your questions now.”

            “Ladybug, Ladybug!” She pointed to a young man in a tweed jacket near the front. “International Tribune: now that Hawk Moth’s reign of terror is over, do you plan to retire?”

            “Of course not. I’ll always be Paris’ hero,” Ladybug assured the crowd, smiling a little at the relieved faces she saw there. “I’ll probably be a little less active now, however—I have confidence in our police force to handle anything non-supernatural thrown our way.”

            “Ladybug, Paris Today: how do you respond to the accusations that Hawk Moth’s secret identity as Gabriel Agreste is a government cover-up being used to avoid tax evasion law suits?”

            Ladybug frowned.

            “I believe you all witnessed the proof, one way or another, that Gabriel Agreste has passed,” she said rather harshly. “Half of Paris went to his funeral.” Although Adrien hadn’t returned for it, as far as anyone knew… “Anyone who tries to claim that Mr. Agreste’s death was a cover-up is doing a great disservice to his memory, supervillain or not. I’ll take one more question,” she added as her Miraculous gave a warning beep.

            “Ladybug, Alya Cesaire, from Ladyblog?”

            “Of course,” Ladybug invited, smiling at the thrilled look on Alya’s face.

            “Just a quick question: where’s Chat Noir? Usually, he’s glued to your side, but today…”

            Ladybug scowled at the reminder.

            “You know what, Miss Cesaire—may I call you Alya?” At Alya’s eager nod, Ladybug continued. “That’s a really good question, Alya. If you happen to catch that cat around, could you let him know I’m looking for him? Thanks.” With a smile and a salute, Ladybug was off, taking to the skies once more.

            And so life in Paris went on.

            Ladybug patrolled the area once a week, making sure no one was getting into too much mischief, but more often than not, she left crime to the police of Paris. She still searched for Chat Noir when she could, but when the mangy cat refused to appear for two weeks, three weeks, a month, two months…three months…Ladybug had to conclude that Chat Noir, whoever he was in his civilian life, had given up crime fighting. Marinette couldn’t find it in her heart to begrudge him that—who didn’t want a normal life, after all? But the least he could’ve done was let her _know_ he was hanging up his cat suit for good. Was that so much to ask?

            Apparently so—as the years went by, with no sign of Chat Noir, Marinette could only conclude that he wanted nothing more to do with her. And so, once and for all, she put the thought of that messy blonde hair and those glittering green eyes, that cocky grin and that black cat suit—all thoughts of her former partner—out of her mind. If he was content to move on without her, then she wouldn’t sit around waiting for him.

            Marinette still did Ladybug things from time to time—she swung her way around Paris, making sure the night was safe, that all was well. But as time went on, she let herself be seen less and less, other things in her life taking precedence: lycee clubs, her fashion portfolio, hang outs with Alya, one or two dates with boys she liked well enough, and yet not enough for the relationships to last very long. It was only as she was preparing for college that Marinette expressed her regret to Tikki that the kwami didn’t have much to do anymore.

            Tikki giggled at that, hardly concerned, it seemed.

            “Don’t feel bad, Marinette. You’re not neglecting your duties. Thanks to you, Paris is safe. So go on, live your life. You deserve to, after working so hard.”

            And so, with Tikki’s blessing, Marinette did just that—she sewed, she laughed, she worked, she played, she lived her life in relative bliss.

            And in relative ignorance of the storm heading her way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, first chapter ended up being longer than I anticipated.
> 
> Oh well. Sets the stage well.
> 
> *Rubs her angst-ridden hands all over the Miraculous Ladybug fandom*
> 
> Buckle up, kids. You're in for a bumpy ride~
> 
> ~Reyna
> 
> EDIT: With one exception, I do not allow translations of this fanfic. Please stop asking.
> 
> ~Reyna


	2. Seven Years Later...

           “Marinette…Marinette…? MARINETTE!”

            Marinette jumped with a squawk, somehow getting tangled in her sheets in _just_ the right way before she wobbled and fell off her bed. She groaned, peeling back the corner of the sheet covering her face and frowned up at a pair of big, indigo eyes.

            “What is it, Tikki?” She grumbled, rubbing at her face and yawning. This better be good, if it was so important to rouse her from the lovely little place that was Dream Land…

            With a tiny grunt of effort, Tikki lifted Marinette’s phone up for her to see.

            “You slept through your alarm again! You’re going to be late!”

            Marinette blinked at the time. 8:50.

            She had class at 9.

            The unholy screech she let loose could probably be heard from two blocks away.

            Scrambling out of her cotton prison, Marinette ran for the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

            “Why didn’t you wake me earlier, Tikki?!”

            She heard her kwami sigh from behind the door as she sped through her morning routine, washing her face and brushing her teeth at top speed.

            “Twenty-one years old and you’re still like this…” The kwami hastily zoomed out of the way of the door as Marinette blew past, throwing her closet open. “The only thing you’ve seemed to have outgrown is your pigtails!”

            Marinette stuck her tongue out at Tikki, which only proved her right, Marinette supposed, but she couldn’t focus on being mature right now—she was going to be late!

            After throwing on some clothes that managed to make her look presentable, Marinette took one look at her hair, deemed it hopeless, and tied it back in a bun, strands of raven locks framing her face. She snatched up her bag and raced down the steps, calling back a farewell to her kwami as she left.

            “See you later, Tikki!”

            “Bye, Marinette!”

            Tikki rarely ever traveled with her everywhere she went anymore—there was no need, and with how busy Marinette was, rushing to and from places, she barely had time to feed _herself_ , let alone Tikki. It was at first with a heavy heart that Marinette chose to leave Tikki behind most days, leaving her with a box of cookies and different ways for the kwami to entertain herself. It was hard at first, and though Marinette missed the little voice in her ear when she was having hurried, solitary lunches at a café somewhere, they both agreed that it was for the best. Besides, Marinette made it up to the kwami by taking her out to see the city on days when she wasn’t so hellishly busy, and there was always Ladybug time when Marinette could manage it. So, while the thought made her clench with guilt at first, now Marinette was just used to the situation. She was busy, so it couldn’t be helped.

            Outside of her apartment, Marinette locked up, let out a measured breath, and then took off running for campus.

            It was both blessing and curse that International Fashion Academy—IFA Paris—allowed its upperclassmen to live off campus if they so chose. The blessing was that Marinette could be as loud as she wanted in her own apartment—which wasn’t actually too loud, by herself—without campus security being called in for a noise complaint.

            The curse?

            She was often stuck doing _this_ every morning: ducking and dodging around people with rushed apologies as she ran for campus, the sunlight glittering off the Quai de la Marne nearly blinding her.

            ‘ _Why don’t I think to set up five-minute alarms?_ ’ Marinette berated herself as she dashed onto campus, heading for the correct building by skirting past a couple girls holding coffee cups, their shrieks of indignation falling on deaf ears. ‘ _No,_ one-minute _alarms. That way I’d be so annoyed that I’d get up out of irritation more than anything…but that doesn’t help if I’m sleeping through my alarm anyway, does it? Ugggh,_ why _did I think a Masters degree in Fashion Business was a good idea?! I should’ve just stuck with my Fashion Studio short course—then I’d be done already!_ ’

            Marinette sighed as she slipped through the doors of her class building, the smell of academia heavy in the air. Oh the ways she suffered for her craft…

            Being Ladybug during what little free time she had nowadays certainly had its perks—where years ago, a ten-minute mad dash to campus would’ve winded her, now, Marinette was perfectly composed as she strode into class, the only thing winded possibly her hair. She smoothed it down as she took her seat, pleased to find that she had arrived with just one minute to spare. A personal best, in her book.

            “All right, all right, settle down,” called the professor as the morning chatter quieted. On the course description, her name was Mademoiselle Trace—Miss Trace, as her home country of America would call her—but she preferred them to call her Desiree, which made the whole dispute a moot point. Though she was fluent in French, Desiree preferred to speak exclusively in English, which made Marinette fervently grateful for the English courses she had to take in lycee and in her first two years of university. In fact, the only time Desiree ever spoke in French—

            “All right, my brilliant students, listen up: _J’ai une announce a faire_.”

            —Is when she had something important to say.

            The abrupt switch to their native language had every head swiveling in Desiree’s direction. Pleased with the attention, Desiree continued.

            “As you all know well and good, graduation is just a few short months away—”

            Seven months, three days, fourteen hours, seventeen minutes, six seconds.

            But Marinette wasn’t counting or anything.

            “—So as your final project, we’re having a competition. A _Project Runway,_ of sorts.” Desiree chuckled at the groan her students issued over her mention of the _dreadful_ American fashion reality show she’d once made them watch. Tim Gunn’s favorite phrase, “Make it work,” was often uttered in the class from then on when someone didn’t know the answer to a question or was last-minute cramming for an exam. Though sounding playful, it was a phrase meant to _shame._

“Anyway,” Desiree continued, becoming business-like with just a snap of her fingers, “for the rest of this semester, this class will focus on one thing, and one thing only: creating your very own spring fashion line.”

            The air grew heavy with anticipation, hanging on Desiree’s every word. She smirked at this.

            “You all have spent years developing your own unique designs, and I’ve seen a lot of amazing work.” Here, she winked at Marinette, who blushed and tried not to be too pleased with herself. It was a losing battle. “I have every confidence that each and every one of you has what it takes to rise to the top.” Desiree straightened up from where she leaned against her desk, her sudden stern look further driving home just how serious this was. “That being said, this will be a _competition_. Therefore, there will only be one winner. The winner of this competition will not only have their designs modeled in this spring’s Paris Fashion Week—”

            A collective gasp sounded through the room, but Desiree lifted a hand, her smirk more pronounced than ever.

            “Hang on, darlings, I’m not done. Not only will the chosen fashion line be modeled in this spring’s Paris Fashion Week, but said winning designer will _also_ have a guaranteed career with the _best_ on-the-rise fashion company…”

            Desiree paused once again, and Marinette thought she might burst from anticipation.

            ‘ _Spit it out already!_ ’ Her mind cried out, desperate for release.

            But Desiree was sadistic: she dragged out the anticipation for as long as possible, until someone in the back burst out, “For the love of _god_ , Desiree, tell us already!”

            Desiree’s face split into a grin.

            “All right, all right, since you’re all so _desperate_ to know…” She cleared her throat, and then, confusing all her students, called to the direction of her office. “You can come out now!”

            Heads swiveled in the direction of Desiree’s office, the door coming open with a soft click. Everyone stared as he emerged, slow, sinuous, cat-walk steps carrying him to the front of the room, where he stopped, a hand propped up on his cocked hip.

            Posing.

            Marinette stared, feeling her eyes go wide in her face. She took in the clothes—designer, of course, and _form-fitting_ —the hair—longer than she had ever seen it, but still blonde and still perfectly coiffed, gelled and combed down in the back—the tan—Italy had done _very_ complimentary things to his skin—and finally, the eyes…

            Green eyes that surveyed the room coolly, as if he was king and was well-aware of it.

            Desiree’s voice came dimly through the roaring in Marinette’s ears:

            “Presenting CEO of Agreste Fashion and world-famous supermodel, Adrien Agreste!”

            Marinette nearly fell out of her seat. She managed to straighten herself in time, but the squeak of surprise did not go unnoticed.

            “Something wrong, sweetheart?” Desiree asked as Marinette ducked her head, feeling her face go completely red for the first time in _years._

            “N-no,” she muttered, daring to chance a glance up. Adrien—freaking _Adrien Agreste_ —was looking at her, too, and she about died when she noticed the slight lift of one of his golden brows. As if he found her ridiculous.

            Marinette wanted to take out her stash of fabric scraps she carried with her everywhere in case she or someone else was in need of a quick patch job, tie them together in a noose, and hang herself from the Eiffel Tower.

            ‘ _Maybe being a mite overdramatic there, Marinette. You’re not fourteen anymore, remember? You’re a grown-ass woman, so act like it!_ ’

            It was funny how, even as they pursued different career choices at different universities, Alya’s voice still managed to enter Marinette’s brain to make her get herself together.

            Clearing her throat, Marinette waved a hand.

            “Please, continue,” she said to Desiree, successfully suppressing the note of desperation in her voice. Desiree still gave her an odd look, but shrugged in the end and did as Marinette asked.

            “Mr. Agreste has graciously agreed to this little project of mine,” she said with a casual wave to Adrien, as if he wasn’t standing there looking unfairly like an Adonis statue come to life. “He tells me that his company is currently in the market for talented designers, so I hope you all will make me proud.”

            “I look forward to working with you all,” Adrien spoke for the first time since entering the room, the deep rumble of his voice—so different from the teenaged tenor she remembered all too clearly—doing strange and _devastating_ things to her. She tried to discreetly pinch her cheeks to remind herself not to dissolve into a _hot mess_ because _oh my god Marinette you haven’t seen him in years pull yourself together._

“Here is the criteria sheet for the competition,” Desiree announced, pulling Marinette back out of her own head as she passed out packets of paper containing all the information. “The deadline is two months before graduation and one week before Fashion Week, so you have about four months to put together some truly _fantastic_ pieces. Don’t worry, the minimum requirement is five outfits—but if you want to do more, I won’t stop you, and it certainly wouldn’t hurt your chances. It is also my understanding that Agreste Fashion will be checking in bi-weekly on your progress…is that still correct?”

            Desiree looked inquiringly at Adrien, who nodded.

            “Yes—I will clear time in my schedule to personally meet with each of you and discuss your designs for the next few months. Since models from Agreste Fashion will be modeling your designs, we have to be sure that we can coordinate every last detail until the winner is determined.”

            Adrien smiled, a sight that normally would’ve reduced Marinette to ash…but there was something strange. Though the smile was perfect, as was everything about Adrien Agreste…it didn’t reach his eyes. It was artificial, a carefully crafted smile to please the audience.

            It was his model smile.

            “My assistant will send you my schedule, Desiree. Please have your students sign up for the designated time slots, and don’t hesitate to call if there are conflicts.”

            Adrien laid a hand on Desiree’s shoulder, and she smiled at him.

            “Of course, Mr. Agreste.” Was Marinette imagining the flirtation in her teacher’s voice? She fervently hoped so.

            There was a shrill ring through the room, and Marinette was glad to know that she wasn’t the only one who jumped. Adrien’s angel features were marred by the frown that puckered his brow, his lips twisting as he retrieved his ringing phone from his pocket. Marinette inwardly groaned—even pouting, he still looked amazing. It really wasn’t fair.

            “I’m afraid that’s all the time I have to spare today,” he said to the room at large, his model’s smile now apologetic. “CEO/supermodel, and all that.”

            “Of course. Thank you for coming,” Desiree said, speaking for the class as she walked Adrien to the door. “We’ll be in touch.”

            “Good luck,” Adrien called to the room, lifting a hand in farewell. Some students called back to him, but his phone was already up to his ear, the heel of his expensive shoes out the door—

            He was gone.

            The room abruptly burst into excited chatter.

            “Adrien _freaking_ Agreste, are you _kidding_ me?!”

            “Desiree, how could you spring something like that on us with no warning?!”

            “Yeah, rude!”

            “I about had a heart attack!”

            “ _Adrien freaking Agreste!_ ”

            Marinette sympathized—they had no idea—but her attention was currently elsewhere.

            Namely, on the piece of cloth that had fluttered to the floor after Adrien’s departure. As Desiree attempted to quell the rebellion, all amusement and smugness on her face, Marinette got up, carefully approaching the cloth as if it would harm her.

            It was a monogrammed handkerchief. The initials “A.A.” were embroidered on one side in velvety green.

            The same green as Adrien’s eyes.

            “He dropped his handkerchief,” she reported to no one in particular, still staring at the scrap of fabric.

            The room behind her went silent for one precious second.

            And then it exploded in sound.

            “I’ll take it to him!”

            “No, _I_ will, I’m fastest, I was the anchor on my lycee track team!”

            “Let me smell it, just a quick whiff!”

            “ _Give it to me, Marinette!_ ”

            “HEY!” Desiree called, the loudest voice of all, and the class stopped mobbing Marinette, who had to crouch within the group, defending her find, nowhere near tall enough to stretch above the crowd. With a look that was half-exasperated, half-amused, Desiree waved her hand, and the students blocking Marinette moved obediently to the side, revealing her. She straightened with a sigh of relief.

            “Finders keepers,” Desiree said, employing that strange, American rule she’d repeated once or twice. But then she winked at Marinette. “Mari-doll, be a dear and deliver Mr. Agreste’s handkerchief back to him, would you? And you better hurry—he’s a busy man.”

            Marinette could have run over and kissed Desiree.

            But she didn’t, content to grab her bag and go, smiling guiltily at the covetous looks her classmates threw her way.

            Marinette dashed out of the building, feeling her bun wobble on her head as she turned this way and that. She had no idea which direction Adrien had disappeared to, but she was certain she would spot him immediately—he was tall, blonde, and gorgeous, after all. Not exactly hard to miss.

            And spot him she did: he was down the street, phone still to his ear as he was climbing into a nondescript car.

            “ADRIEN!” Marinette called out before she could stop herself, “WAIT!”

            He paused, blinking green eyes as she sped towards him, hoping very much that she didn’t look like a rabid fangirl about to attack him. Although the run this morning hadn’t knocked the breath out of her, she found herself strangely gasping for air after this short sprint, and she cursed her nerves to the very deepest pits of hell, certain they were the cause.

            As she leaned over to breathe, free hand on her knees, she lifted the handkerchief for him to see.

            “You…you dropped…this…” she puffed, forcing herself to straighten up after a moment, to meet his eyes. God, he was so much _taller_ than her, now. What was he, six-two? Three? She was so flustered that her designer’s eye couldn’t tell.

            He blinked at her again, looking mildly surprised.

            “Oh,” he said, patting his pocket, as if to confirm what his eyes were seeing. “I guess I did.” He accepted the handkerchief, smiling a little. “Thank you.”

            Oh god. _Why_ did her knees have to turn to jelly?! Why?!

            ‘ _Say something!_ ’ Alya’s voice prodded Marinette again, and Marinette took a deep breath. She could do this. She wasn’t fourteen anymore. She could talk to Adrien Agreste.

            CEO of a big fashion company/freaking _supermodel_ Adrien Agreste who she hadn’t seen in seven years after his move to Milan after the death and reveal of his supervillain father.

            Yeah, she could _totally_ do this.

            “Um…”

            ‘ _Off to a good start,_ ’ Alya’s voice groaned in her head, prompting Marinette to sigh and straighten her shoulders.

            “I…I don’t know if you remember me,” she began, her grip on the bag slung across her body tightening. “But, we used to—”

            “Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Adrien suddenly said, her name rolling effortlessly off his tongue. Marinette seized up, feeling herself blush as she blinked at him.

            He… _remembered her?!_

            “I thought you looked familiar,” Adrien said, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. His rugged, handsome jaw… _focus, Marinette._ “I suppose I just didn’t recognize you without the pigtails.”

            His eyes trailed up and down her form, and Marinette resolved then and there to get up two hours early to plan the day’s outfits from now on.

            After a moment, he smiled again. It still didn’t reach his eyes.

            “You grew up well,” he complimented.

            Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god she was going to die, she was _so going to die_ —

            “You too,” Marinette answered as naturally as she could…which was, surprisingly, pretty natural. Miraculously, she managed to smile at him. “Italy seemed to agree with you.”

            “I guess so,” Adrien chuckled, his arm resting on top of the car door as he smiled down at her. She couldn’t help but notice how the fabric of his shirt bulged at his bicep.

            ‘ _Pure thoughts, Marinette, pure thoughts…_ ’

            “So,” she said, searching for some topic that would keep the conversation going, to prove to him—and herself—that she wasn’t some flustered teenage girl too shy to talk to her crush. Not that she _had_ a crush on him still, of course, but…damn, those broad shoulders…

            “…So?” Adrien prompted when she didn’t say anything for a moment. Marinette felt her face heat up, and she internally cursed herself to the pit with her nerves.

            “So…you’re back in Paris!” _Duh._ Marinette could kick herself. “We should get together some time!” She blurted out to save herself, only to blush once again as the implication of her words hit her. “Y-y’know, hang out! Get the old gang back together, you, me, Alya, Nino—”

            “Ah…” Adrien’s gaze shifted away; he suddenly looked guarded. “…Nino and I fell out of touch a few years ago.”

            “Oh…” Admittedly, Marinette hadn’t expected that; Nino and Adrien’s friendship had seemed so solid that she’d just assumed that it would carry on into the present, like her friendship with Alya had. But there was something to be said about the distance between the two boys, and the changes they had both gone through as the years passed. Given the circumstances, even the strongest of friendships could fade over time. She supposed she shouldn’t be too surprised.

            “Well,” she scrambled, hastily putting on a smile, “if you ever want to get reacquainted, let me know! He and Alya are still going strong, so, you know, I’ve got an in.”

            This made the corners of Adrien’s lips quirk up.

            “You still see a lot of Alya then?”

            “When I can,” Marinette sighed, slumping a bit. “Between her internship with Paris Today, _my_ internship at _Tres Bien_ Boutique, and all our university work, it’s hard to see each other sometimes. But we manage.”

            “Ladyblog still going strong?” Adrien asked, an idle question as he glanced at his phone. Marinette felt abruptly bad for keeping him.

            “Uh, not exactly…” She gave a shrug when Adrien’s gaze returned to her. “Not much to report on, now that Ladybug’s not around much anymore.”

            Adrien raised an eyebrow at that.

            “Really?” He asked, leaning his weight on the top of the car door as he peered down at her. “Is Paris’ superhero retired?”

            “Not exactly,” Marinette replied, frowning. “We still see her around from time to time…but I guess there’s not much for her to do now, since—”

            ‘ _Foot approaching mouth, foot approaching mouth!_ ’ Alya’s voice screamed in her head, and Marinette snapped her mouth shut, but too late—Adrien’s gaze suddenly went dull, and he looked away from her.

            _Fuck_. How could she have forgotten?

            “Adrien…I’m sorry,” she apologized, keeping the fervor out of her voice; he didn’t need to know just how truly sorry she was, even if she might want to make it clear how she hadn’t stopped thinking about Hawk Moth either, even seven years later.

            Adrien gave a shrug that looked like it was meant to be casual…but the stiff set of his shoulders said otherwise.

            “Don’t be. It makes sense: if there are no akuma terrorizing the city, why should Ladybug show up? She probably has better things to do.”

            Marinette tried not to bristle at the insinuation. Nothing was more important to her than keeping Paris safe…but how could she vehemently deny him without appearing suspicious?

            Especially when Ladybug was responsible for his father’s death?

            “Maybe,” she settled, just as Adrien’s phone beeped. His eyes were drawn to it once again, and Marinette took that as her cue. “In any case, I’m sorry for keeping you. I’ll…see you around…?”

            Adrien glanced up at her, smiling a small smile.

            “Naturally, since we’ll be working very closely for the next few months,” he reminded her. Though the words were no doubt innocent, they made Marinette flush, and she hated herself for the knee-jerk reaction. “As I recall, you were a brilliant designer when we attended Dupont.”

            At this, Marinette felt her eyebrow quirk.

            “‘Were’?” She quoted, working to sound offended as she cocked a hip, imitating his pose from before. “That talent didn’t disappear over the years, buddy. If anything, I’m thriving.”

            Oh god, listen to her bragging to a fucking _CEO/supermodel_. He was going to laugh at her, she knew it.

            But Adrien didn’t laugh.

            Instead, he smiled.

            And this smile managed to warm the coolness of his eyes, if only just a little.

            “Yeah?” He chuckled, finally getting into the car idling behind him. “Then I eagerly await seeing how your talent has thrived, Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

            Marinette could only stare as he pulled away with a parting flick of his fingers.

            The October morning was rather brisk, but with how hot Marinette was feeling, it might as well have been mid-July.

 

* * *

 

            “ _Girl,_ ” the voice on the other line drawled, suggesting that Alya had big, big news. “You will never _guess_ who’s back in the country.”

            Marinette briefly contemplated playing dumb and allowing Alya to have her fun…but the temptation to one-up her was just too strong to resist. This made her a bad friend, she supposed, but…

            “You wouldn’t happen to be talking about Adrien Agreste, would you?” Marinette replied idly, smiling to herself when Alya huffed.

            “Well, shit. And here I was, all ready to make you beg. Should’ve known you’d be on top of anything Adrien Agreste…save for the man himself, of course.”

            “Oh, please,” Marinette huffed at her phone where it lay on her desk as she jiggled her mouse to bring her computer monitor out of sleep mode. Adrien Agreste’s face flashed at her from her computer background—it was the photo from one of his more recent cologne ads. She quickly pulled up an internet browser at random to hide his face from view. “I’m _so_ over him.”

            “Uh-huh.” The voice on the other line remained unconvinced. “So tell me, my love-struck friend: how did you possibly find out Adrien Agreste had returned to Paris before I called to give you the scoop? As I understand it, most of Paris is still in the dark.”

            Marinette could practically see Alya pouting, and she giggled a little guiltily.

            “He was in my design class this morning.”

            “You’re _shitting_ me.”

            “Nope. Shit you not, I’m afraid,” Marinette answered, clicking on an e-mail from her boss in a tired sort of fashion. Tikki sat next to her, scrolling through the iPad Marinette had given her a few Christmases ago, playing some kind of cat game. Marinette smiled at the adorable sight before she skimmed her e-mail. Symone wanted her to run a few errands before she came into work this afternoon. Of course.

            “Well, what was he doing there?! C’mon, girl, gimme the details!”

            “Mmm, I don’t know,” Marinette decided to tease her friend, leaning back in her swivel chair, hands resting behind her head. “Since his whole company is involved, I’m not sure I’m at liberty to divulge the details until a press release is issued.”

            “Marinette. You’re my best friend and I love you, but I _will_ hurt you the next time I see you. Don’t test me, girl.”

            Her tone of voice had gotten scary. Marinette promptly decided that that was enough teasing for the day.

            “All right, all right—so my senior class is doing this _Project Runway_ thing—”

            “That stupid American show with the blonde ditzy model, and the guy whose droning voice makes me want to blow my own brains out?”

            “Exactly that one…but, like, take all of _that_ crap out of it, and you have my senior project. I basically have to create five ensembles in time for Paris Fashion Week in the spring, and if they’re good enough, I’ll win the competition and have a guaranteed job at Agreste Fashion as soon as I graduate. Oh, and did I mention that Adrien Agreste will be having bi-weekly meetings with my senior class to check in on our progress?”

            Alya, who had listened intently this whole time, now sucked in a breath.

            “Girl, you better _get that._ ”

            Marinette snorted as she typed a few assurances to Symone that the errands would be run before Marinette got into work. As if she had a choice in the matter.

            “I’m not getting anything, Alya. I’m too busy for boys right now.”

            “Uh-huh,” said Alya again, sounding just as convinced as she had previously. “Let’s just pretend for a second that I buy that load of horse crap and move on to the more pressing issue: how are you gonna _sleep_ this semester?”

            Marinette sighed.

            “I was actually trying not to focus on that part…” But between her classes, bi-weekly meetings at Agreste Fashion, her internship, _and_ her senior project, the concept of sleep was beginning to look more and more like just that—a concept. Looked like Ladybug would have to disappear off the map for a long while…

            …And speaking of Ladybug…

            “Adrien asked how the Ladyblog was going, by the way,” Marinette brought up, working to make herself sound casual. The resulting sputter made her smirk, imagining Alya gaping at her, blinking her wide hazel eyes.

            “You—you _talked_ to him??”

            “Well, yes, if moving our lips and words coming out is what you mean by ‘talking’.”

            “You _really_ talked to him? Or did you just, y’know, do your ‘Marinette’ thing and stutter at him?”

            Marinette scowled.

            “You know, my inner voice sounded a little too much like you when I was talking to him, and I do not appreciate it one bit, missy.”

            “You’re welcome,” Alya replied. “Oh, hang on, Marinette, that’s the boy. I just told him his long lost best friend’s back in town…hmm…” Marinette heard computer keys tapping in the background. “Doesn’t look like he’s happy about it.”

            “Yeah, Adrien said they lost touch,” Marinette reported, once again smug at the noises of disbelief Alya made.

            “I can’t believe you were able to hold a conversation with him long enough to actually _know_ this stuff.”

            “Why wouldn’t I? I’m not fourteen anymore, you know.”

            “Yeah, but Adrien’s not only CEO of his own company that he had to build from the ground up after the shit show that was his father’s identity being revealed, but he’s _also_ , like, the _hottest_ supermodel working in the industry right now. I’ll say this for him, kid aged up well.”

            “He really did,” Marinette remarked, unable to help reliving the glory that was Adrien Agreste, up close and personal.

            “Now now, Marinette,” Alya tutted playfully, “I thought you were over him? Pick your jaw up off the floor, I can hear you drooling.”

            Tikki muffled her giggling from where she sat, and Marinette blushed, regretting her decision to put Alya on speaker phone.

            “I am not drooling,” she protested, self-consciously rubbing at her jaw.

            “Yeah, yeah. Well, color me impressed, girl—you managed to hold an actual, honest-to-god conversation with Adrien Agreste, even though he’s, like, _twice_ as intimidating now. Congratulations.”

            The applause from the other end of the phone sounded a tad mocking, but Marinette let it slide, knowing that Alya meant well.

            “Gee, thanks. Now if you don’t mind, I want to be able to eat before I have to run and do some errands for Symone.”

            Alya groaned.

            “You’re _always_ doing errands for Symone. Doesn’t that woman know how to do anything for herself? She runs you ragged, and for what? You don’t even get to _design_ anything while you’re there! Remind me, what’s the point of this internship?”

            “I have to pay my dues,” Marinette repeated for what felt like the twelve-hundredth time. It wouldn’t be so bad if she herself was not so frustrated by the insane amount of _nothing_ she was doing at this place. But Symone was brilliant, talented, and best of all, she could give Marinette a stellar recommendation for any boutique Marinette chose after this…so long as Marinette did exactly as she was asked. And if Symone wanted coffee and fabrics, then Marinette would get her coffee and fabrics, with pleasure. And just a hint of brown-nosing.

            “I know dues, girl. I paid them my first month of getting my internship before I started doing _real_ investigative journalism. This is, what, your second year? Symone’s using you for all the wrong reasons, if you ask me.”

            “Alya—”

            “I’m serious,” Alya fussed, and Marinette could just picture her trademark business scowl, intimidated even though they were just talking on the phone. “Why don’t you say anything? Show her some more of your designs, show her that you’re not just there to be her do-girl, that you’re serious!”

            “I’ve _tried,_ ” Marinette insisted with a huff, spinning idly in her computer chair. “But anything I show her, she just brushes off. Symone’s only interested in _her_ visions for her boutique, trust me.”

            Marinette sympathized with the frustrated sound that issued from her phone.

            “And there’s no way I can convince you to quit?”

            “Nope,” Marinette replied, her own brand of stubbornness stomping forward. “ _Tres Bien_ Boutique is _the_ boutique right now. This is my foot in the door, my stepping stone to achieving my dreams. I might be just getting coffee, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m there to play ball whenever I need to. And who knows? Maybe once I graduate, Symone will offer me an _actual_ job.”

            “If you consider working full-time for that harpy I will smother you myself,” Alya threatened, and Marinette laughed, though she wasn’t sure whether or not Alya was completely kidding. “You need to stop acting like you need this internship, _especially_ with this awesome senior project you’re gonna throw yourself into. Who needs Symone when you have Adrien Agreste in your pocket?”

            “I do not have Adrien in my pocket,” Marinette sighed, rubbing the side of her temple. She could feel a headache coming on with all this talk of Adrien. “He didn’t even remember who I was at first.”

            “Really? Ouch.”

            “It’s whatever. Seven years and no contact…shouldn’t have expected anything more.”

            “Yeah, but now that you’ve reconnected, this could be your chance, to…you know…”

            “I am not pursuing Adrien,” Marinette growled, her tone closing the subject. “It’s been seven years. I’ve moved on.”

            “Fine, fine,” Alya replied airily. “But some sex wouldn’t exactly hurt you, girl.”

            “Alya…”

            “I’m just saying, it would get rid of your tension a lot better than all those baths you take. You know I’m right!” She called over Marinette’s insistence that she had to go now, and that she would talk to her later. Marinette hung up, heaving another sigh. Leave it to Alya to make her realize that not everything in her world was as she wanted it to be.

            “I need new friends,” Marinette reflected to Tikki, who glanced up from her game, blinking those big indigo eyes of hers.

            “What did I do?” She asked, and Marinette snorted, rubbing the kwami in between her antennae.

            “Well, I didn’t exactly hear you defending me there,” she teased, and Tikki stuck her tongue out at her.

            “If Alya heard my voice, she’d have a _lot_ more questions for you, Marinette,” she pointed out, and Marinette had to admit that she was right.

            Seven years later, and Alya still had yet to figure out Marinette’s biggest secret.

            And Marinette intended to keep it that way.

            Gulping down the rest of her lunch and giving Tikki a quick pat to the head before she left, Marinette once again dashed out of her apartment, this time grabbing her car. She made a mental check list of all her tasks before she arrived at work:

            Picking up a box of pastries from Symone’s favorite bakery?

            Check.

            Stopping by their fabric supplier for more silk and lace?

            Check.

            Destroying the hopes and dreams of hopeful suitors by turning them away at the door Marinette had to struggle through just to get into work?

            Ugh. Check.

            Marinette swallowed her sighs, put on her big girl face, and stepped into the office with her usual chipper, “Good afternoon, everyone!”

            But it wasn’t a good afternoon.

            It was utter bedlam.

            Everywhere Marinette’s eyes turned, chaos. Her normally pleasant and mild-mannered coworkers were shouting at people on phones, shouting at each other, madly dashing around the place and slipping on cut-outs of satin and cotton. A younger intern in the corner seemed to be having an utter break-down, gripping at his hair and muttering under his breath, wide eyes staring into space. Marinette was almost certain there was an akuma to blame here, but before she could get too worked up, her eyes found Symone, and she made a beeline for the woman.

            “Symone,” she spoke, hoisting the boxes under her arm higher for a better grip. “What’s going on?”

            “What’s going on? What’s going _on?_ ”

            Marinette stumbled back a step as Symone’s eyes flashed to her, her normal composure nowhere to be found in this moment. Her normally sleek chignon bun was unraveling, her jacket was rumpled, and her dark eyes popped, making her look half-crazed.

            “We’re _ruined!_ _That’s_ what’s going on!!”

            Marinette could only stare, utterly confused by this declaration. What did Symone mean, they were ruined?

            “But—” she began, only to have Symone bear down on her, her tall form twice as intimidating in her towering temper.

            “I just came back from a meeting with _Agreste Fashion_ ,” she informed Marinette, stressing the name of Adrien’s company for effect. “I was there, ready to meet with Mr. Agreste to discuss the winter line he was considering making global, which would have set us up for _life_ , when _who_ should walk out of his office?!”

            “Uh…w-who?” Marinette asked, since Symone seemed like she was waiting for her to.

            Symone drew herself up to her fullest height, dark eyes continuing to pop madly.

            “CHLOE BOURGEOIS!!!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, making Marinette jump violently, scrambling to keep her hold on the box of pastries. “The self-entitled, spoiled brat of the former mayor! You would think his being voted out of office YEARS AGO would’ve humbled the little monster, but _nooo_ , she’s still as STUCK UP AS EVER, what with her so-called “ _career_ ” as a reality show _princess._ But all of that, I could forgive. I could forgive the conniving, self-obsessed little bitch who acts like she needs constant attention just to _survive,_ but the one thing I can’t forgive? The ONE THING I can’t forgive is her STEALING FROM ME!!!”

            Despite the hysterical screaming, Marinette quickly put two and two together.

            “You mean she stole—”

            “My _designs!_ ” Symone screamed, and Marinette backed away slowly. “My _designs,_ all my hard work, out the window, all because she _dared_ to present them _first!_ ” And now Symone turned on the rest of the office, her fingers flexing, as if she was ready to claw someone’s eyes out. “Who was it? _Which one of you sold me out to Chloe Bourgeois?!_ ”

            Of their own accord, Marinette’s gaze flickered to a familiar red-head, who had her head bowed. When Sabrina first came to work for _Tres Bien_ Boutique, Marinette was surprised—against all odds, she and Chloe were still friends, and she rather thought that Sabrina would be sticking close to Chloe as always. But then she reasoned that maybe Sabrina had her own goals and aspirations in life outside of Chloe, and had decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

            …But looking at that guilty, shifting look now, Marinette suddenly suspected a much darker motive of the red-head…

            A deft pair of hands suddenly plucked the boxes from Marinette’s grasp. She looked up, startled, as a tall man with sleek blonde hair and icy blue eyes carried the boxes over to a nearby surface. Face impassive, he plucked a pastry from the top box, and, as Symone was ranting and raving, shoved it into her mouth. Symone sputtered and choked, pulling the pastry out of her mouth and chewing, humming in apparent approval at the taste. While she was distracted, the man guided her over to a nearby chair, his long fingers working quickly at her shoulders. Immediately, Symone melted, her satisfied hum reverberating throughout the room, making everyone else just a tad uncomfortable. But the man didn’t stop the shoulder massage until Symone had finished her pastry, offering her the box as she reached for another one.

            “All right…” she said after a moment as she chewed, rapidly gaining back her usual composure. “I can fix this…let Chloe Bourgeois have those old designs, I can come up with something _much_ better. Something _way_ more worthy of Agreste Fashion. To be honest, I was withholding my artistic genius just a bit, not eager to give away the whole farm just yet…but if she wants to play it that way, fine…”

            Symone stood up, pushing the last bit of pastry into her mouth as she sternly surveyed the room.

            “I will be in my office for the remainder of the day. No one is to bother me. Scrap whatever you’re working on; we’re starting from scratch. And until I find the little mole in our organization, _none of you are to enter my office for any reason._ Except for you,” she said to the man with the pastry box, her personal assistant. “I shall need you on hand, so don’t go anywhere.”

            “Yes, Symone,” he said quietly. With a satisfied nod and the box of pastries, Symone disappeared into her office, the slam of the door definite.

            As one, the office breathed a sigh, equal parts relieved and exhausted.

            “Felix,” Marinette addressed the tall blonde with a smile, “you’re _amazing._ ”

            Felix regarded this praise with a shrug.

            “I do what I have to.” His eyes flickered away from Marinette, focusing on Sabrina. “I saw you glance towards her. You suspect her.”

            Marinette bit her lip. Man, he was sharp. Then again, that was one of the many reasons he was Symone’s assistant.

            “It could be nothing,” she prefaced, not eager to stir the pot in case she was wrong. “It’s just…I know for a fact that she and Chloe Bourgeois are friends. It could be that she accidentally let Chloe see what she was working on, and Chloe acted from there…” Marinette frowned, lowering her voice enough that Felix had to lean over to hear her. “Or it could be that Chloe purposefully planted her here. I don’t really know, either way, but if Chloe had a prior run-in with Symone—”

            “I see,” Felix said quietly, straightening up, his gaze now focused on Sabrina. “I will investigate. Thank you, Marinette.”

            “Uh, sure?” Marinette watched as Felix went on about his usual business, though his measured gaze carefully watched Sabrina’s every move. He was an odd one, Felix—he didn’t say much, and he _never_ smiled…but no one could say that he wasn’t good at his job.

            “And _where_ is the fabric I ordered?” Called Symone’s voice from the office. “Marinette? Where are you?!”

            Marinette sighed. And so another afternoon of work began.

 

* * *

 

            With the exhausting day she’d had, it was sweet, sweet relief for Marinette to become Ladybug. Sure, she could be doing more constructive things, such as working on her senior project, but she had four months, what was the rush? Besides, she’d wait for creativity to inspire her, rather than sit at her desk staring at her sketchbook for hours, as if hoping the clothes would design themselves.

            This was much easier—swinging through the streets of Paris, guided by moonlight, letting her yo-yo and her own power propel her through the skies. Seven years later, the feeling was _still_ exhilarating, and Ladybug allowed herself a grin of satisfaction. No one was around to watch, so why shouldn’t she enjoy herself? She swooped over the city, landing on rooftops to briefly scan the area before continuing on her way, making a neat little circle with pockets of inner circles, about five…kind of like the ladybug pattern of her earrings. Ladybug grinned to herself as she perched on the Eiffel Tower, enjoying the breeze and the view. Though the October chill persisted, she could barely feel it through her suit, and it felt good against her flushed skin.

            This was nice.

            Ladybug took a deep breath. She would enjoy this while it lasted—once she went back to being Marinette, there was a lot to do, so she would linger for a while tonight, taking advantage of the transformation for as long as she could. Then she’d swing back home, de-transform, bathe, crawl into bed, and hopefully get a good night’s—

            A distant scream caught Ladybug’s attention, her head snapping down to the noise. Narrowing her eyes, she could just make out a dim flash of light in the distance, the cacophony of screams growing louder, along with a strange sound…cackling?

            Something was going on down there. Something big.

            Something _evil._

            Oh boy. What a great ending to a stressful day.

            Her heart pounding hard for the first time in ages, Ladybug swung her way towards the chaos and destruction, her frown becoming more and more pronounced the closer she got.

            It had been quiet for seven years. What in the world was going on tonight that had disturbed that peace?

            Ladybug got her answer as soon as she landed in the street where all the ruckus was happening.

            A figure danced through the street, its multi-colored outfit drawing Ladybug’s eyes immediately, the multitude of fabrics and patterns sewn together offensive to the seamstress within her. As she watched, the figure cackled, turning an oversized and _very sharp_ needle onto a nearby couple with the misfortune of being out in the street, tonight of all nights. Ladybug shouted as the needle made its way towards them, but it passed right through them harmlessly.

            Or so Ladybug thought, until the couple was abruptly flattened out, like they were nothing more than paper, or _cloth_ , weaving together in ways that looked _excruciating_. Laughing through the victim’s screams, the figure sent them skywards with a flick of her needle, where they were stitched— _stitched—_ into a giant cloth slowly looming over the streets of Paris.

            This strange-looking figure was making a quilt out of _people._

Ladybug didn’t need the blanks filled in for her.

            “Stop there, akuma!” She called, pointing a finger at the villain, who jumped and turned, cocking its head to the side, as if Ladybug couldn’t _possibly_ be referring to _it._

            “Ex _cuse_ me?” The akuma questioned, one hand on its multi-colored hip, the other balancing the large needle it held. “I am _Patchwork_ , thank you very much! And I have no business with you, Ladybug—I seek Chloe Bourgeois only, and those who get in my way will be dealt with!” She flashed the oversized needle at Ladybug, as if that should intimidate her.

            But no, Ladybug was not intimidated. Seven years later, it was the same old song and dance—Chloe’s attitude and lack of care for others had caused yet _another_ person to be akumatized. Really, she ought to have been shipped out of Paris a long time ago just on _principle._

            “No business with me? Really?” Ladybug called as Patchwork turned her back on her. “You’re not even interested in, say…my Miraculous?”

            Patchwork paused, which confirmed Ladybug’s fears:

            Somehow, some way, there was another Hawk Moth on the loose.

            And that did not bode well for any of them.

            “…Change of plans, Ladybug,” said the akuma, turning slowly to face her. With a manic grin, she flashed the needle at Ladybug again. “Give up your Miraculous, or you’ll be the next addition to my quilt!”

            “You want my Miraculous?” Ladybug wondered sweetly, daring to wink at Patchwork as she sent her yo-yo out to wrap around a nearby lamp post. “Come and get it.”

            With a vicious snarl, Patchwork started forward, her needle slicing at Ladybug—or it would’ve, if Ladybug had still been standing where Patchwork had swung. As it happened, she was currently whirling into the sky, touching down on a nearby rooftop and sprinting across—away from other people that might be out tonight, she hoped. The furious snarling behind her let her know that Patchwork was hot on her trail, and that she was not happy. Good.

            “Come on, Patchwork! Is this the best you can do?” The smarty-pants Ladybug taunted, throwing another wink over her shoulder as she jumped and swung from rooftop to rooftop.

            “You think you’re _sooo_ great, don’t you?! Well then—take _this!_ ”

            Ladybug looked back just in time, and squawked, swinging hastily out of the way as the oversized needle flew at her. It passed by her by mere inches, and before she could make a grab for it, certain that the akuma was trapped inside it, Patchwork reeled it back; apparently the end was attached to some kind of thread.

            Great—the enemy had her own type of yo-yo, this one a lot deadlier than Ladybug’s. Fantastic.

            To add salt to the wound, her Miraculous gave its first beep. She was running out of time.

            “You can’t run forever, Ladybug!” Patchwork called after her, and Ladybug grit her teeth at the reminder. “If you surrender now, I’ll grant you a merciful end…unlike that spoiled princess, Chloe Bourgeois!”

            Oh, this Ladybug _had_ to hear.

            “What’s _your_ problem with Chloe?” She called, pausing just on the top of a lamp post, her yo-yo swinging as she idled, trying to make up her mind on whether or not to use her Lucky Charm just yet. If she could think fast, it would definitely help, but if she was thwarted, it would be a waste of her charm _and_ her Miraculous would wear out faster! What should she do?

            ‘ _If only Chat Noir were here…_ ’

            Ladybug was promptly surprised by the stray thought; she hadn’t thought about Chat Noir in years. Where was this sudden desire to see him coming from?

            Ladybug shook her head. She didn’t need him. She would get out of this situation on her own.

            “Urgh, Chloe Bourgeois! That sneaky little theif!” Patchwork suddenly raged, pulling Ladybug out of her own head. She blinked as Patchwork stomped a high-heeled foot. “All my hard work, and she just swoops in and _takes_ it! My boutique…it’s _everything_ to me! If I lose it because of someone like _her…_ what will become of me?”

            Boutique?

            “Symone??” Ladybug questioned, gawking as she tried to find the poised, usually _way_ more stylish woman in that amalgamation of colors. Patchwork’s attention snapped back to her, and she growled in frustration.

            “Symone is not here!” She denied, as all akumas did when Ladybug dared to refer to them by their civilian names. “I am _Patchwork!_ And _you_ , Ladybug, have just the pattern I need to add to my perfect quilt!”

            Ladybug was too slow. With renewed vigor, Patchwork sent the oversized needle flying towards her once again, and though she fell back to avoid it, she forgot that her yo-yo currently wasn’t hooked to anything. Panic surged through her as the concrete came too close for her liking, and she squeezed her eyes shut and sent her yo-yo out again in a last-ditch effort, praying with all her might that her luck would hold—

            She landed in something much softer than concrete, yet, solid at the same time…very solid…

            There was the sound of a clucked tongue above her.

            “My my, let’s not be hasty—I don’t think polka dots are in season right _meow…_ no offense, My Lady.”

            Ladybug’s eyes flew open, staring at the underside of a very cut jawline. She flipped automatically out of the grasp, just in time to spot Patchwork growling in frustration once again.

            “I don’t have time to play games with you two! I must find Chloe Bourgeois and slash her to ribbons!”

            Before Ladybug could stop her, Patchwork deployed what looked to be a hang-glider of her own (hideous) creation, and she took to the skies.

            Despite Ladybug’s every instinct to go after her, something held her in place—the presence beside her. Slowly, Ladybug turned…

            Bright green eyes focused on her through the eye holes of a black mask, catlike and glittering in the dark.

            “ _Ciao,_ Ladybug,” Chat Noir greeted her with the usual roguish grin…a grin she hadn’t seen in seven years. “It’s nice to see—oof!”

            Before she could stop herself, Ladybug had lashed out and punched the unreliable black cat right across his stupid jaw. He stumbled back a step, rubbing at the place where she’d punched him, looking bemused.

            “Me- _ouch._ Still as fierce as you are beautiful, I see.”

            Ladybug did not so much as crack a smile.

            “Where the _hell_ have you been?!” She demanded of him, and Chat Noir blinked his green eyes.

            “Such _language,_  My Lady!”

            “Don’t you ‘My Lady’ me, you damn stray!” Ladybug shouted, stomping her foot at him. “It’s been _seven years,_ Chat Noir! Seven years that I’ve heard _nothing_ from you! And all of a sudden you show up as if nothing even happened?! I have a good mind to—”

            “Shh,” Chat Noir suddenly shushed her, raising a clawed finger to her lips. Ladybug fell silent, but only because of his audacity. He had no right to be shushing her when she wanted to blow up at him!

            “I promise there will be time to berate me later, My Lady. In fact, I look forward to it.” He gave a mischievous wink, and Ladybug rolled her eyes through sheer force of habit. “But don’t you think we should be hunting down the akuma before your Miraculous runs out?”

            For the second time, her Miraculous beeped. Ladybug snarled and cursed under her breath.

            “Fine,” she relented, turning to chase Patchwork, who was still just visible on the skyline. “But this doesn’t mean you’re off the hook yet, Chat Noir!”

            “You’re beautiful when you’re angry,” he teased, and Ladybug let out a snort of disgust. He hadn’t changed at all!

            ‘ _Well,_ ’ her mind spoke quietly as she launched herself into the sky with her yo-yo, Chat Noir following close behind. ‘ _That’s not_ entirely _true…_ ’

            Of their own accord, Ladybug’s eyes found Chat Noir as he streaked alongside her in the darkness.

            He _had_ changed—his messy blond hair had grown out of control, and so it appeared as if he chose to tie it back, ending in a small ponytail at the nape of his neck. And his cat suit was more form-fitting than ever, clinging to every line of hard muscle he had apparently gained. The front of his suit was unzipped, showing off the top of his pectorals…his well-defined pectorals that Ladybug had felt when he had caught her…along with those biceps that flexed and bulged under that black leather…

            Chat Noir caught her looking. She regretted her wandering eyes immediately when he grinned at her.

            “See something you like?” He asked with a wink. Ladybug scoffed while cataloguing just how mature his voice sounded now…even with the childish nonsense he was spouting.

            “You wish. All I see is a new punching bag that I intend to break in later.”

            “Ooh. Can’t wait to get your _paws_ on me, My Lady?”

            ‘ _This pun-loving bastard…_ ’

            Ladybug decided to stick with her first assessment: he really hadn’t changed at all.

            But even Chat Noir could wait: though it had been seven short years since they had seen this kind of trouble, right now, Paris was in danger, and it was Ladybug’s job to save it.

            Her former MIA partner could be dealt with later. And he _would_ be, no matter how handsome he’d turned out to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DIDN'T MEAN TO END IT HERE.
> 
> There was just too much happening in this chapter, so I couldn't add the whole battle. Ugh.
> 
> At least we got a glimpse of Chat Noir's new look.
> 
> And who knows--maybe we'll get to see more later. ;)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	3. Strangers pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, over 80 kudos in four days?! You guys are awesome!
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

“CHLOE BOURGEOIS!! WHEREVER YOU’VE HOLED YOURSELF IN, YOU CAN’T HIDE ALL NIGHT!!! I’LL FIND YOU AND TURN YOU INTO MY MOST MASTERFUL CREATION!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!!”

“These akuma sure like to hear themselves talk,” Chat Noir grunted from somewhere to Ladybug’s right. She rolled her eyes.

“Look who’s talking,” she shot back at him, and she felt rather than saw his grin aimed at her.

“CHLOE BOURGEOIS!!! COME OUT!!!” Patchwork demanded yet again as she soared through the streets in her monstrous hang-glider. “I’LL TURN THE WHOLE CITY INTO MY QUILT LOOKING FOR YOU IF I HAVE TO!!! NOT THAT YOU CARE ABOUT _ANYONE ELSE, YOU SELFISH BRAT!!!_ ”

“Someone’s angry,” Chat Noir commented once again as he and Ladybug paused on a nearby rooftop, Chat crouching, Ladybug swinging her yo-yo.

“Chloe stole her designs for a winter fashion line she’s been putting together since August,” Ladybug reported with a rather weary sigh. “It devastated her.”

‘ _I thought things were fine when I left…something must have changed…_ ’

Chat Noir scoffed.

“All this fuss over clothes?”

“It’s not _just_ clothes,” Ladybug protested, her inner seamstress offended. “It’s her _livelihood._ ”

She should’ve expected for Chat to not understand, but she was still irked at the way he shrugged.

“Still seems like she’s overreacting.” His eyes found hers, glittering mischievously. “ _Purr_ -sonally, I _purr_ -fer nudity.”

Ladybug _hated_ that the comment managed to make her blush. Stupid stray.

“Using the same cat pun twice in one sentence,” she sighed loftily, making her scorn obvious in hopes to distract from her embarrassment. “You’re getting sloppy, Kitty.”

The familiar nickname slipped out by accident, and she didn’t like the way it made Chat Noir smirk at her.

“Yeah?” He asked, straightening up simply to tower over her as he leaned forward, grinning like he was going to…well, eat her. “ _Purr_ -haps you could show me how it’s done later.”

Ladybug nudged him back with a push to his chest, valiantly ignoring the way his muscles flexed under her touch.

“Quit flirting, we have work to do!” And she was off again, the trailing snicker behind her making her face no doubt as red as her mask.

Patchwork’s destination became clear in a matter of moments: The Grand Paris Hotel loomed in the distance, gleaming in the dark of the city. Practically a beacon. Ladybug sighed as Patchwork finally touched down in front of the hotel, brandishing her needle threateningly.

“CHLOE BOURGEOIS!! IF YOU WON’T COME OUT, I WILL COME _IN_ , AND I WILL TURN EVERY SINGLE PERSON THAT HAS TRIED TO HIDE YOU FROM ME INTO THE LOWLIEST TEXTILES!! GET OUT HERE, YOU BITCH!!!”

“Symone, stop!” Ladybug called, dropping down into the street, Chat Noir just behind her. “You don’t have to do this! What about the new line you were going to design? Didn’t you say it would be better than whatever Chloe Bourgeois stole?”

“IT’S NOT ABOUT THE CLOTHES!!!” Patchwork screamed, stamping her high-heeled foot so hard that it cracked the street. “It’s the _principle!_ That _spoiled little bitch_ thinks she can just walk all over _whoever she wants_ just because of who her father _was!_ Well, I’m not going to stand for it any longer! And _you_ will not stand in _my_ way!!!”

While Ladybug felt for Symone—really, she did—her sympathies vanished as soon as the oversized needle she was wielding was sent her way at an alarming speed. She ducked and rolled, thankful that Patchwork’s throws took time, enough time for her to come up with a plan—

“Chat—” She said as she turned to her former partner, intending to use their fall-back strategy: Chat as the distraction, Ladybug as the plan-maker.

Chat Noir, however, was one step ahead of her for once.

Somehow, (cat-like reflexes, perhaps?) he had grabbed the needle before Patchwork could reel it back in, and with a flash of his claws, the needle broke free of Patchwork’s thread.

“I’m assuming this is what you want?” He asked, tossing the needle to Ladybug, who stumbled a bit as she caught it, surprised by his swiftness.

“Uh, yeah! I hope so, anyway…”

Ignoring Patchwork’s roaring protests, Ladybug brought the needle high into the air before she slammed it over her knee.

But nothing happened.

Not only did the needle not break, but a sudden throbbing lanced through Ladybug’s knee. She hissed in pain, staring down at the overlarge, still unbroken needle.

“What the hell…?” Akuma source or not, _nothing_ she’d taken from the enemy had _refused_ to break before. What was going on??

“Ladybug?” Chat Noir called, and Ladybug looked up, finding him using his baton to spar with Patchwork, who was now infuriated beyond belief. “Anytime you’re ready…”

“I—I’m trying!” She protested, attempting to bend the needle now, but the metal would not yield. “It—won’t—break!”

Chat spared her a glance before ducking a blow from Patchwork.

“Wrong item?”

“This has to be it!” Ladybug protested, now attempting to break the needle against the ground, and failing. “Everything else on her is just cloth!”

Chat gave a shrug, swiping his leg under Patchwork and tripping her up.

“All right, then—Plan B.”

This made Ladybug pause—Chat Noir, coming up with a plan on his own? This was new; usually _she_ was the thinker out of the two of them.

She was about to ask what he was scheming, but just as she opened her mouth, her voice died as she saw Chat Noir’s hand close around Patchwork’s throat. The akumatized seamstress gave a choking cry, her nails clawing at his hand, but Chat Noir’s fingers merely flexed, claws digging into her skin, drawing blood—

Ladybug felt herself go cold.

What the _hell_ was he _doing?!_

“Chat! Stop!” She called, racing towards them. Chat Noir glanced over his shoulder as she approached, looking quite unconcerned.

“What’s the problem? I’m just getting rid of the akuma,” he explained to her calmly as his grip on Patchwork’s throat tightened. Her face was beginning to turn blue.

“Let her GO!!” Ladybug shouted, dropping the needle and giving Chat’s arm a fierce yank. She wasn’t wrong about the hard muscle; it was like gripping a rock. A rock that refused to yield under her grip, just like the needle.

Chat was giving her a curious look, his eyes glittering strangely.

“Why are you so upset? It’s just an akuma. Either way, we win, right?”

Ladybug gaped at him. She could not _believe_ she was hearing this.

“I don’t _want_ to win this way!!” She protested, pulling at Chat’s fingers now. “There’s a _person_ in there, Chat! Don’t you care what happens to _her?!_ ”

“Why would I? I don’t know her.”

“That doesn’t stop her from being a person!!”

Chat’s pupils narrowed.

“Didn’t stop you from doing what had to be done with Hawk Moth,” he said quietly.

He might as well have slapped her with a barbed glove. But though the physical injury didn’t exist, the sting was still there, tearing at Ladybug as she stared at Chat Noir. There was another choking gasp from Patchwork, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. He let go.

Ladybug rushed to seize Patchwork’s wrist, fingers desperately searching for the pulse point…

She found it. It was faint, but it was there.

Ladybug slowly rose to her feet. She couldn’t look at Chat Noir, even though she felt his gaze on her. It was a cold, compassionless gaze. The gaze of a stranger.

Moving to the side, she snatched up the stubborn needle before returning, moving to stand over Patchwork’s unconscious frame. Chat crouched before her, his expression unreadable.

Though tensions were high between them, Ladybug knew this wasn’t over. She still had to purify the akuma. To do that, she needed to break the needle.

And to break the needle…

She held out the weapon to Chat Noir, hating that she had to ask him for anything at this point. But if she couldn’t do it herself…

“Break it.”

It was an order, not a suggestion.

Chat dared to give her a patronizing look.

“If you can’t break it, what makes you think I can?”

Gritting her teeth, Ladybug shoved the handle of the needle into his chest.

“ _Break it._ ” Her tone made it clear that she would not be asking twice.

“…”

Chat stared up at her, and she stared down at him. Though she could hardly stand to look at him right now, she _refused_ to be the one to break gazes first. And perhaps somewhere, in their silent stand-off, that was made clear, for Chat shrugged after a tense minute that seemed to last ages.

“As you wish, My Lady.”

Ladybug watched numbly as Chat Noir used his Cataclysm power to slice clean through the needle. The fluttering akuma finally came into view—

A terrible scream ripped through the air. Ladybug clapped her hands over her ears, horrified when she realized the scream was coming from the _akuma_ —it flapped haphazardly, as if blind, confused. And the way it screamed was so _agonizing_ , like it was in pain so unbearable that it had to scream, despite having no discernable mouth—

A clawed hand reached out, snatching the akuma from the air. The screaming was muffled, but only just, which allowed Ladybug to think again.

“Stop it!!” She shrieked when it looked as if Chat Noir intended to crush the butterfly. He looked up at her with a flat gaze.

“Then do something about it already,” he prompted her, holding the screaming akuma by one frantically flapping wing. Ladybug pushed through all the unnerving events of the night, successfully capturing the akuma in her compact and purifying it. She winced when the white butterfly emerged, but it fluttered away harmlessly, to disappear into the night. Ladybug tossed her yo-yo into the air, calling out the magic chant that would right the world once again:

“Miraculous Ladybug!”

The magical ladybug swarm exploded, scattering throughout the night, reappearing people, fixing all the damage Patchwork had caused in her wrath. And Patchwork herself de-akumatized, revealing Symone once again.

But she didn’t move from the street.

Heart in her throat, Ladybug crouched over her again, shaking her shoulder.

“Symone? Symone, can you hear me? Wake up!”

To her everlasting relief, Symone’s eyelids began to flutter. She slowly opened them, blinking in surprise once she spotted the hero before her.

“L-Ladybug?” She questioned, sitting up with a speed that surprised Ladybug. “Wh-what are you doing here? What am _I_ doing here? What time is it?”

Her eyes found her watch, and she gave a dramatic gasp.

“Never mind, I don’t have the time for this! I have to get back to my desk! I was in the middle of a brain wave; I just got the _greatest_ idea for a new line that’ll knock Adrien Agreste’s pretty little head off! Excuse me!”

Standing up and brushing herself off briskly, Symone set off at a trot, surprisingly able in her six-inch heels. Ladybug let her go, unable to think of anything to say to call her back.

There were bruises on Symone’s neck.

Reaching over without looking, Ladybug snatched the leather tail of a certain cat that was attempting to make his getaway.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She asked, cutting her eyes to him. He turned, blinking his green eyes like he had no idea why she was upset. Like he was innocent.

“…Oh, sorry.” He lifted a fist. “Mission accomplished…?”

Ladybug stared at him coldly. If he thought he could just give her a fist bump and the whole thing would be over and done with, he had another thing coming.

“We need to talk,” she told him, her tone brooking no argument. Chat tilted his head at her, his face impassive.

“Right now?” He gave a nod to her. “You sure you have the time?”

Her Miraculous’ beeping grew more insistent. She had a minute, tops, before her transformation wore off. The knowledge made her growl in her throat.

“This is important,” she insisted, despite knowing that stubbornness drove her at this point. Her problems increased when cars and people started heading their way, the flash of cameras obvious even in the distance. Reporters.

Chat Noir gave a shrug.

“Hey, if you’re ready for all of Paris to finally know who you really are, be my guest.”

The beeping in her ear grew faster, coinciding with her heartbeat. Ladybug let out a huff of frustration, and she sent her yo-yo out to a nearby high fixture.

“Fine. But this isn’t over, Chat Noir,” she told him with a fierce look. “The next time we meet, you have a _lot_ of explaining to do.”

“Here they come,” Chat Noir prompted as the reporters closed in, questions already on their lips.

“Ladybug, what happened?!”

“Chat Noir?! Have you returned to fight crime?!”

“Was there an akuma here just now?!”

“Is there a new Hawk Moth terrorizing the city?!”

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” Ladybug regretfully informed the reporters, yanking on her yo-yo string to zoom off, above their heads. “I’ll answer your questions another time!”

“Well, _I’ve_ got time to kill,” Chat Noir announced, his roguish grin making an instant comeback as he smiled for the cameras. “I don’t mind answering in My Lady’s stead, just this once. That is, if you’ll have me.” He winked at the female reporters, who all burst into flustered giggling. Something turned over in Ladybug’s stomach, and she felt like she might be sick, but she made herself leave the scene only because she had nothing on her to feed to Tikki right away.

But boy did she have a _big_ ass-whooping stored up for Chat Noir the next time they saw each other.

 

* * *

 

Marinette stood out on her balcony, the night air doing its best to permeate the blanket around her shoulders. It wasn’t getting far, but it hardly mattered—Marinette was already shivering. The view here was nowhere near as spectacular as it was from the balcony of her room at her parents’, but even that was of no consequence when Marinette could see nothing anyway.

“I don’t understand, Tikki,” she admitted quietly to the kwami, who sat next to her on the balcony railing, munching on a much-needed cookie. “What’s happened to Chat Noir? How could he have grown so…so _callous?_ ”

It was not right, in any sense of the word. The Chat Noir she had once known was annoying, sure, but he was caring, and kind, eager to sacrifice in order to protect others. As much as she was loathe to admit it, he was very much the cute kitten when he wanted to be.

This Chat Noir was completely different. If the Chat Noir from her past was a kitten, the present Chat Noir was a panther, armed with muscle, sharp teeth and claws, and a predator’s attitude.

And the worst part?

He seemed to have gotten the idea of keeping Paris safe by killing bad guys…from Ladybug _._

From _her._

The memory of his eyes still burned into her, dark pupils narrowed, green glittering in the dark.

_“Didn’t stop you from doing what had to be done with Hawk Moth.”_

Marinette shivered again, drawing the blanket tighter around her, despite knowing that it wasn’t the weather causing the chill within her.

“How could he throw that back in my face?” She asked of the air, as if the stars held the answer. “He said he didn’t blame me…but he _does_ , doesn’t he? He blames me for Hawk Moth’s death. He…he thinks I did it on _purpose._ ”

“But you didn’t, Marinette!” Tikki protested, her tiny features warped in concern.

Marinette sighed, rubbing her kwami’s head with a fingertip in reassurance.

“ _I_ know that, and so do you. The only one that doesn’t seem to get it…” she frowned in the distance, “is Chat. Seriously, where the hell does he get off, trying to murder someone after being MIA for seven years? And _why_ is the Butterfly Miraculous being used for evil once again, when _he_ was supposed to deliver it to Master Fu?! Ugh, if my Miraculous wasn’t about to wear off—”

“You can’t turn on each other,” Tikki chided, swallowing the last bit of her cookie before rising into the air. “I know Chat Noir is…different, and maybe a little scary. But no matter how much time has passed, you’re still partners.”

“I don’t know about that, Tikki,” Marinette huffed, her eyes turning skyward. What a beautiful night…hard to believe an akuma had surfaced again merely hours ago. “If it were still the same Chat from seven years ago, then maybe, but Chat as he is now—”

“You have to talk to him, Marinette,” Tikki insisted, apparently refusing to hear any argument on the subject. “I don’t know what’s happened to make Chat Noir the way he is now, but I know he’ll listen to you if you just talk to him. He still cares about you, after all.”

“Hmm,” Marinette hummed dubiously. Once again, she had to check her previous assertion that Chat Noir hadn’t changed—the very opposite, in fact. He had changed _too_ much. She squirmed at the thought of him giving an interview to the reporters of Paris, which would no doubt be broadcasting on all networks tomorrow morning. The thought of it gave her a headache, prompting Marinette to go to bed.

She didn’t have time to stress over this. Tomorrow marked the beginning of her senior project, and work for the new winter line at _Tres Bien_ Boutique. And her knee had bruised from where she’d tried to break that needle, something that still perturbed her.

If she was going to stand a chance tomorrow, she needed all the sleep she could get.

As it turned out, it wouldn’t be much.

 

* * *

 

To say that Alya was mad that she had missed the first big Ladybug scoop in seven years would be akin to saying that puppies were kind of cute.

Alya. Was. _Livid._

“I _cannot_ believe this!” She exclaimed for the fourth time, once again drawing stares from the other patrons of the gelato shop. Marinette shushed her again, cringing in apology at the curious glances.

“Alya, shhh. It’s not a big deal—”

“It’s a _very big deal!_ ” Alya protested, slamming her fists into the table. Strands of red hair were escaping from the ponytail at the back of her head, and the blouse and vest she had buttoned up over her chest were straining against her ample breasts as she heaved in displeasure. Marinette could practically see smoke unfurling from Alya’s nostrils. “The first big scoop in _years_ , and where was I?! At Nino’s, thirty kilometers away! This is _all_ your fault!” She threw at said boyfriend, who paused in his approach of the table, hands heavy with frozen treats. His well-trimmed scruff did little to hide the trepidation in his expression.

“Uh, sorry,” he apologized, though he clearly had no idea what they were talking about. He extended the ice cream Alya had specifically ordered. “Peace offering?”

Alya huffed, but she accepted the frozen treat with relatively good grace.

“You’re lucky I like you,” she told him pointedly. Marinette grinned as Nino passed her milkshake across the table before he wrapped a tentative arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders. As hot-tempered as Alya was, Nino was mellow enough to balance her out. She supposed that was why they worked so well together.

“Don’t I know it. So, what’s new, Marinette?”

Marinette shrugged, sipping at her straw.

“Same old thing: work, work, work.” She stifled a yawn. “It doesn’t help that my mom has called me every day since the akuma attack on Wednesday to check up on me.”

“Well yeah, it happened pretty close to where you live, didn’t it?” Alya mentioned, her temper giving way to concern as she eyed Marinette up and down. “You sure you didn’t get caught in that mess? You’ve been walking a little funny today…”

Marinette inwardly cursed the slow-healing bruise on her leg as she hastily laughed Alya off.

“Oh, that. I, uh, tripped while I was bringing in some fabric for Symone. Landed badly on my knee.”

“What am I going to do with you, girl?” sighed Alya, shaking her head. “You’re still so klutzy that it makes me worry about leaving you alone for more than ten seconds at a time.”

Marinette’s brow puckered, her lower lip jutting out in a pout.

“I get along just fine without you, thank you very much,” she protested, prompting Alya’s grin of apology.

“Relax, babe,” Nino added, giving Alya’s shoulder a squeeze. “‘Nette’s a big girl now. Look how successful she’s becoming: working at a high-end fashion boutique, on the edge of getting her master’s in…uh…what’re you studying again?”

“Fashion business,” Marinette reminded him with a smile.

“Though I bet it’s hard to focus with _Madamoiselle_ Trace around,” Alya teased with a wink. “Oh man, for an American, she’s gorgeous, y’know? I might do something about it, if I wasn’t already tied down…”

“…And if you weren’t straight?” Nino added, giving his girlfriend a strange look, which intensified when she shrugged.

“I don’t like labels.” Before Nino could ask whether or not she was kidding, Alya leaned forward, focusing on Marinette, the manic gleam in her eyes returning. “Speaking of, how’s your senior project going? Had any meetings with the prodigal Mr. Agreste yet?”

Nino nearly choked on the banana split he had just taken a bite out of.

“Wh-what?” He sputtered as Alya thumped him hard on the back, shaking her head.

“Ah, right, that,” Marinette mumbled, shooting Alya a frown. It was one thing to tease her about this when it was just the two of them, but in front of Nino… “Basically, my senior project is a competition: I have to create my own line of spring fashion in tandem with Agreste Fashion, to be submitted before Fashion Week in the spring. If I win, my designs will be modeled by Agreste Fashion models, and I'll have a guaranteed career at the company.”

Nino mulled that over for a moment before he frowned.

“That sounds like a whole lot of work you’re doing for free,” he pointed out. Marinette shrugged.

“Technically it’s not free—it’s my final grade. And if it leads to a job at one of the best fashion companies in France, then it’s worth it.”

“That, and you get to spend a whole lot of up-close and personal time with one Mr. Adrien Agreste,” Alya said slyly. Marinette did her best to roll her eyes so hard that it would distract from the blush she could feel heating her face.

“Oh yes, and I’m _so_ excited to do that, since it’s been, what, seven years since we last spoke to each other? I’m sure we have so much to catch up on. Not.”

Nino picked at his banana split for a moment, frowning.

“…How is he?” He ventured tentatively, looking guarded, as if he’d rather not let his girlfriend and her best friend know just how concerned he might be.

Marinette matched his frown.

“I’m…not sure,” she hedged, worrying her lip with her teeth. “I only talked to him for a few minutes, and, ugh, I managed to mention the whole thing with his father being Hawk Moth…”

“Ooh,” Alya hissed, wincing in sympathy. “How’d he take that?”

“About as well as expected.” Marinette sighed. “Desiree tells me I’m meeting with him first thing on Monday morning, so I hope I didn’t shove my foot too far in my mouth.”

“On Monday?!” Alya directed her spoon at Marinette like a sword. “You didn’t mention that earlier! Withholding information from me, are you?”

“I didn’t have a chance to bring it up,” sighed Marinette, whacking the spoon away from her. “And besides, it’s not a big deal.”

Alya’s smirk grew devious.

“Oh _really_? You’re meeting him alone, aren’t you?”

“Yeah—”

“And you’re going to be showing him what you’re working on for your senior project?”

“Kind of the point of the meeting—”

“So let’s cut to the chase, then! What kind of underwear are you gonna be wearing?”

“Alya!” Marinette protested, feeling her face heat up as Nino pointedly looked away from them, whistling under his breath as if to block out the conversation. “For the _last time_ , I am _not_ interested in pursuing _anything_ but a career with Adrien Agreste!!”

Alya gave her a long, measured look. Marinette sat up straighter, as if that would help make her more convincing. After a few seconds of charged silence, Alya sighed.

“All right,” she conceded, leaning back. Marinette stared at her.

“All…right…?” She couldn’t believe her eyes: Alya Cesaire, giving up a _lead_?

When Alya shrugged, Marinette suddenly worried for her best friend’s health.

“Believe or not, Dupain-Cheng, I know when to take a hint. And you seem pretty determined for nothing to happen.” Alya gave a dramatic sigh, and suddenly, Marinette was suspicious. “I just thought, y’know, that this could finally be your chance. You’d been pining away for this boy since I can remember, and you were devastated when he left. And now, here you are, in all your twenty-one year old grown woman glory, with an in to the pretty supermodel himself…I just thought you’d like to take advantage is all. But if you’re _really_ not interested—”

“Don’t you try your journalistic double-talk on me,” Marinette warned her friend, scowling now. “I won’t fall for it.”

“Don’t listen to her, ‘Nette,” Nino surprised Marinette by speaking…and what’s more, by taking _her_ side over Alya’s. “I know it might be tempting, since you, er, had a pretty huge crush on him back when we all were in Dupont, but…”

Nino frowned. There was something hidden in his usually bright eyes…something painful.

With a sigh, he shook his head, as if to rid himself of irksome flies.

“…But he’s different now. That whole fiasco with his dad…it broke something inside him. I didn’t lose contact with him because we were too far apart or anything like that—he shut me out.”

Nino reached across the table, patting Marinette’s arm.

“You don’t deserve that kind of treatment, Marinette. You’re still so sweet after all these years…” Nino’s eyes were uncharacteristically serious as he gazed at her, dire warnings in his stare. “Don’t get wrapped up with Adrien. You deserve better.”

Marinette blinked, equal parts touched and embarrassed that this conversation was even happening. Didn’t she say at least a dozen times already that nothing was going to happen between her and Adrien? So what about her childhood crush? It didn’t _mean_ anything now, damn it. She was a grown ass woman, for god’s sake!

But the sincerity in Nino’s expression could not be ignored, and she gave him a quiet nod.

“Okay. Thanks, Nino.”

Alya gave a sigh.

“Well, I hate to say it, but when the boy’s right, he’s right.” She punched his arm. “You didn’t tell me about Adrien shutting you out, though. If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have told Marinette to go for it.”

Nino rubbed the spot where she punched him, the action automatic as his gaze drifted far away.

“I didn’t want to talk about it,” he admitted quietly. Marinette watched as her best friend’s gaze softened, her hand going to Nino’s chin and guiding his gaze to her.

“I know it’s painful,” she assured him with a comforting smile. “But honestly, if he’s gonna act like that, you’re better off. And you’ve got me!” She gave him a playful wink. “That’s enough for now, right?”

Nino smiled, the gesture lighting up his whole face.

“More than enough for forever,” he corrected, moving in to kiss Alya’s cheek, their glasses bumping together.

“Get a room,” Marinette teased.

Alya gave her a sly look.

“This _is_ a room. You and a bunch of other people just happen to be in it.”

“Oh boy. I’m leaving now before I get caught up in your indecent exposure charge,” Marinette giggled, getting up from the table and shelling out some cash for her milkshake. “Anyway, I’ve got work to do if I’m going to be ready for my meeting Monday. I’ll see you lovebirds later, when you’re not being so cute.”

“Then you’ll never see us again,” Nino called after her as she walked away, and Marinette rolled her eyes with a laugh. Though her romantic life was pretty much D.O.A. at the moment, seeing the way Nino and Alya looked at each other helped her keep faith.

One day, that would be her.

For now, however, she had career goals to chase.

 

* * *

 

This was such a stupid idea.

Why had she let that comment get to her?

Marinette squirmed in the lobby of Agreste Fashion, her sketchbook and garment bag sitting beside her on the sleek couch. Her bra was pinching her, and Marinette cursed herself again for thinking that _lingerie_ wasn’t actually such a bad choice to wear under her business blouse and skirt.

She was going to kill Alya the next time she got her hands on her.

Agreste Fashion was absolutely no joke: a large, imposing building on the outside became a sleek and well-oiled machine on the inside, the walls stainless steel, the floor black marble. Marinette tried to shift as little as possible, despite how her underwear pinched, already feeling out of place as gorgeous supermodels and people in suits barking orders came and went, barely sparing her glances, as if she was just a part of the upholstery. She would take more offense at this…if her skirt wasn’t the same shade of gray as the couch she was currently perched on. She withheld a sigh. Just twenty minutes of Adrien’s time, and then she could get out of here…and hopefully drown her nerves in either ice cream or booze…whatever she got her hands on first.

The dark-haired secretary hung up the phone she was speaking into, throwing a glance Marinette’s way.

“Mr. Agreste will see you now,” she announced. She gestured a manicured hand towards the elevator at the end of the hallway—the elevator no one else had approached since Marinette had entered the building half an hour ago, choosing instead to filter through the three elevators on the other side of the lobby. She gulped, and then nodded, trying to smile at the secretary as she passed. The secretary’s smirk told her she hadn’t quite succeeded.

The elevator took only a moment to reach her, and as Marinette stepped inside, hoisting her garment bag higher into her grip, she noted that there was only one button within: for the twentieth floor. Swallowing again, Marinette reached out and pressed it.

The doors of the elevator slid shut immediately, and she only just felt herself ascending, the speed of the elevator deceiving her senses. Within a few short moments, it slowed to a stop, the ding announcing that her destination had been reached. Marinette took a deep breath as the doors slid open—

Her eyes immediately snapped to Adrien, who stood across the room from her at one of the large windows. Though the view of Paris below was _fantastic,_ his eyes were on the sky, closing briefly to lift a water bottle to his lips. Marinette felt her legs lock up, staring at his profile, at the way his throat moved as he swallowed, the cloth towel draped around the back of his neck, sweat glistening on his bare torso—

He was shirtless.

Adrien Agreste…was shirtless.

_Why was he shirtless was he trying to kill her?!_

Marinette’s involuntary squeak managed to pull Adrien’s attention out of whatever cloud he had his head lodged in. He turned to face her, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

Lord have _mercy._

“Miss Dupain-Cheng,” he greeted, moving away from the window. “Come in.”

“O-okay…”

As Marinette forced her legs to unlock, she managed to stumble out of the elevator before the doors could close on her. She straightened up, trying to make her desperate need for air natural-looking, breathing slowly through her nose as she took in the office as an excuse not to look at Adrien.

The entire back wall was made of glass, and as her first glance had told her, the view was truly spectacular. On the left side of the office sat bookcases and bookcases and even more bookcases, somehow impossibly filled to bursting point, though Marinette was almost certain that so many books could _not_ be in existence. To the right was a mini-kitchen area, along with a door that was open, revealing a bathroom. The middle of the office had a sunken-in floor, with more sleek furniture, a ring of couches alternating between black and white, and a large coffee table centered within. Marinette took note of the heavily-laden tray upon it, sporting a delicate, silver coffee pot and an assortment of sweets. Near the windows sat a large desk, the initials “A. A.” carved into the front in gold. Three computer monitors sat upon the desk, nearly blocking the view of a tall, comfy-looking leather chair. Being the CEO of a major fashion company clearly had its perks.

Marinette wanted to compliment Adrien’s office, and was in the process of unsticking her tongue when a sudden movement caught the corner of her eye. She glanced over, frowning at the bookcase. What was that? A bug?

“Excuse my appearance,” Adrien suddenly spoke, and Marinette’s attention snapped back to him, both relieved and disappointed that he was currently buttoning up a white shirt over those toned abdominal muscles. She swallowed once again. “I got back from the gym a little later than I was expecting.”

“Oh, uh, yes! Er, I mean, no…”

‘ _Pull yourself_ together, _Marinette Dupain-Cheng! He’s just a person, so talk to him like one!_ ’ Alya’s voice ordered sternly in Marinette’s mind, and she took another steadying breath.

“It’s fine,” she said, moving a little further into the office now. “I got here a bit too early.”

“Yeah?” A secret smile tugged at the corner of Adrien’s lips as he ran a hand through his blonde hair, pushing it back from his face. “As I recall, you used to be frequently tardy to class back in Dupont. Glad to see that’s changed.”

His teasing made Marinette indignant.

“A lot of things have changed, I think you’ll find, Mr. Agreste,” she told him with a slight lift of her eyebrow. “I’m not quite the teenage girl you remember anymore.”

Adrien paused at this. Marinette did not miss the quick sweep of his eyes over her frame again, and she worked hard not to flush under his gaze, maintaining eye contact when he lifted his back to hers.

“…I suppose not,” was all he said in reply. Turning from her, he gestured to the sitting area. “Please, have a seat. I just need a second. Help yourself to whatever you like.”

‘ _Including you?'_

The flirtatious suggestion that floated through Marinette’s mind surprised her; she mentally smacked herself and obediently sat down, taking a cookie before that stray thought could accidentally escape her mouth. She clearly had spent too much time with Alya over the weekend.

As she munched, the movement from the bookcase happened again. Marinette turned and stared, eyes narrowing. What _was_ that?

“Something wrong?”

She squeaked in surprise, jolting when she realized Adrien had moved closer, standing just a meter from her. Why hadn’t she heard him approach?

“Oh, nothing,” Marinette said, hastily finishing her cookie. It was really good…maybe she could sneak a couple back home to Tikki. “I just think there’s a bug or something flitting around your bookcase. That’s twice that I thought I saw something move…though it could be just my imagination…”

Marinette trailed off, watching as Adrien frowned at the bookcase. God, why did he have to be so devastating up close? If she didn’t manage to lose her head during this meeting, it would be a miracle.

“Hmm. I’ll have to check that out later, then.”

He folded his long frame, sitting down on the couch next to the one she occupied, a gap between the two couches, prompting Marinette to turn and face him. She hoped she didn’t look too eager, but she hoped she didn’t look too nervous either, a prick of annoyance flashing through her as Adrien draped himself across the couch with casual elegance. Posing.

“Do you always sit that way?” She asked, unable to help herself. Adrien gave her a curious look.

“What way?”

“ _That_ way.” She gestured towards his arms, positioned over the top of the white couch, one long leg crossed over the other. He looked downright tempting, and it really wasn’t fair. “Is that what happens after years of modeling? You just forget how to sit like a normal person?”

Adrien’s brow puckered at this, glancing away from her.

“It’s comfortable,” he admitted after a moment. Appearing self-conscious, however, he removed his arms from the top of the couch and sat forward, turning to her, hands folded in between his legs. Better, Marinette decided.

“…Well,” Adrien began when Marinette said nothing, “you know why you’re here. Could you show me what you have planned so far?”

“Of course,” Marinette agreed, growing more comfortable as she reached past her garment bag for her sketchbook. Talking about fashion—now this, she could do. This was her element. When it came to her designs, Marinette was queen.

“I’ve been playing with some Italian themes,” she said, flipping through the appropriate pages of her sketchbook before turning it around for Adrien to see. “Namely, the—”

“ _Carnevale di Venezia_ ,” Adrien interrupted, and Marinette was pleased to see his eyes light up with interest. “Yes, I know it well. Attended a few of them, even. It’s a much anticipated event in the spring for Italy.”

“Exactly,” Marinette enthused with a bob of her head, tucking a stray raven lock behind her ear. “I find the Carnival of Venice fascinating, so for my spring line, I intend to create fashions that take inspiration from the carnival, but also make them casual enough to wear without all the fuss of elaborate gowns and costumes.”

“But you’re choosing to keep the masks,” Adrien noted, and Marinette grinned.

“Of course. It can’t be inspired by the _Carnevale di Venezia_ without the masks. That’s what the carnival’s famous for in the first place.” She flipped a page, showing a detailed sketch of a mask she’d been designing. “The emphasis should be on the mask. It is not a mere accessory, but rather, it makes the whole outfit. If the mask isn’t perfect, the rest of the outfit might as well not exist, right?”

“Interesting,” Adrien muttered, green eyes thankfully too intent on Marinette’s sketchbook to notice the way she thrilled at his praise. His eyes found hers a moment later, however, and she worked to keep herself composed. “So. What’s in the garment bag?”

Marinette smiled.

“Funny you should mention that…” She closed her sketchbook and placed it on the coffee table before she got up, moving over to the garment bag and carefully unzipping the creation within. “This was my first idea, and I couldn’t wait to make it, so I spent a good portion of Saturday night on it. It’s not final, but this is the basic idea, so I thought it would be a good idea to bring it in and show you…”

Inwardly, Marinette had to admit that she wasn’t quite satisfied with this design yet—it screamed “Phantom of the Opera” to her more than “Carnival of Venice”, but so excited was she to bring in something tangible for Adrien to see that she just shrugged and went with it. It had, after all, been designed with him in mind…though she would never admit it to his face.

The shirt was simple—cotton, with an open v-neck that would dip just past Adrien’s collar bones if he chose to wear it. She got a little more creative with the pants: black velvet with gold, swirling trim up the sides, a design echoed in the mask that hung from the top of the hanger, though the gold only appeared when the light hit the black feathers attached to the mask just right. A simple black cape draped over the shirt, taking up the back half of the hanger, though Marinette pinched a corner of it and held it out so that it could be seen for what it was.

Well, maybe Marinette was a _little_ proud of it as is—the theme was a fallen angel, something she felt fit Adrien perfectly.

Her smile, however, began to fade as Adrien simply stared at the outfit, his expression suggesting that he was less than impressed.

“I-I know it’s a little simple—” Marinette began, feeling herself blush, but Adrien cut her off.

“It’s not simple.” He stood up, towering over her, his frown disappointed. “It’s boring.”

Marinette felt her lips part in shock. Boring? Okay, so it wasn’t her best work, sure, she had already said it wasn’t a final design. But _boring?_

“B-boring?” She stuttered as Adrien moved closer, critical eyes on the outfit she had pricked her fingers for, over and over, in her haste to have it ready by today…something she had been so excited to show him…

“Yes, boring.” He gestured to the outfit with a wave of his hand. “You said the mask should be emphasized, otherwise the outfit might as well not exist, right? But not even the mask is anything to look at. It looks like a cheap Halloween costume more than anything that should represent _Carnivale di Venezia._ Looking at this, I wouldn’t have even known this was _Carnivale_ -inspired if you hadn’t told me.”

The cold, precise words were razor-sharp, cutting through Marinette, wounding her pride. She clutched the outfit to herself protectively, as if the words would start shredding through it as well.

“It’s still a work in progress,” she protested, hurt bleeding into her tone. “I-I just started it Saturday night—”

“Then why bring it in?” Adrien questioned with a lift of a pale eyebrow. “Why show me something so mediocre? If you were trying to impress me, this was not the way to do it.”

“Mediocre?!” Marinette protested, positively gaping at him now, shocked. Was _Adrien Agreste_ actually saying such terrible things to her?!

Adrien, for his part, merely sighed and shook his head.

“I’m sorry if you’re disappointed that I’m not thrilled,” he told her, not looking sorry in the slightest. “But I honestly expected better from you, Miss Dupain-Cheng. I mean, you once made a derby hat out of feathers that managed to impress even my _father_. And trust me, that was no easy feat.” His eyes hardened briefly. “Your idea is great, I’ll give you that, but if you want to make it work, you’re going to have to try a little harder—no, a _lot_ harder. Because this just won’t cut it.”

‘ _Make it work._ ’

The simple phrase, probably so innocent to Adrien’s ears, caused something to snap within Marinette’s brain.

“What is your _problem?!_ ” She demanded of him, tossing her outfit to the side in a fit of pique. “Why are you being so…so _mean?_ ”

Adrien raised an eyebrow. “Mean?”

“Yes, mean!” Marinette asserted, pointing a finger at him. “I already said it was a work in progress, didn’t I? You don’t have to tear it down like that! The Adrien I knew _never_ would’ve…would’ve…”

Marinette felt her voice trail off.

Because Adrien Agreste, love of her adolescent life, was _glaring_ at her.

‘ _If looks could kill…_ ’

“The Adrien you knew,” he quoted her quietly, folding his hands behind his back. “I see. Tell me, Miss Dupain-Cheng: who was this boy you thought you knew?”

“I-I didn’t _think_ I knew him, I did!” Marinette protested, standing her ground though she was inwardly quailing at the look Adrien was giving her. “H-he was a sweet person, and cool, considerate…he never would have spoken to me the way you just did!”

Like she was nothing more than the dirt on the underside of his shoe…which was amazingly what Marinette felt like right now.

Adrien just shook his head.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng,” he said, referring to her once again by her last names with a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “the boy you knew…was a lie.”

“He was not!” Marinette protested with a stomp of her foot, _hating_ that she could feel tears beginning to gather in the corners of her eyes. “He was Adrien Agreste, fifteen year old fashion model, a kind person, love of my—”

Marinette abruptly cut herself off, slapping a horrified hand over her mouth. Oh god, _what did she just say?!_

Adrien’s face grew impassive. Whether or not he caught the last thing that had flown out of her mouth in the heat of the moment, he didn’t show it. He just glanced away from her, gaze moving to the sky outside his windows once again.

“…I’m sorry to have misled you,” he said quietly. He might’ve sounded sincere this time…if his voice wasn’t devoid of emotion. “Back then…I was only what my father wanted me to be. Nothing more, and certainly nothing less.” Marinette stared at him, feeling her vision cloud, nearly missing the way his eyes tightened. “That Adrien Agreste doesn’t exist, Miss Dupain-Cheng. You’d be better off forgetting him.”

“He was real,” Marinette protested once again, her stubbornness pushing the words out of her mouth, even if all she wanted to do was run away sobbing at this point. But something kept her rooted to the spot, desperately searching Adrien’s face, searching for the sweet, shy boy who had meant more to her than she ever dared to admit, sometimes even to herself.

But he was nowhere to be found. Before her was a man, a stranger, who thought her designs mediocre, and her, probably pathetic.

Marinette wanted to die, but like an idiot, she persisted anyway.

“That Adrien Agreste couldn’t have been fake. I…I would’ve known if he was…”

That statement brought Adrien’s gaze back to her. His eyes were dull.

“Really?” He asked quietly, green eyes focused completely on her. “You have enough confidence to claim that, despite the fact that you hardly ever spoke to me when we were in school together? Despite the fact that it’s been seven years since we last saw each other?”

Marinette opened her mouth to argue—really, what else could she do at this point?—only to snap it shut once again at the look that transformed Adrien’s face. His lips quirked, curving automatically, as if he couldn’t help the reaction, due to years and years of being told to smile for the camera. But his eyes—those beautiful green eyes Marinette had loved—tightened in pain. His smile spoke volumes of pure, unfiltered loneliness.

It was a smile that broke Marinette’s heart.

“Really, Marinette…can you really say that you ever knew me at all?”

In his voice, there was a hint of a new emotion: desperation.

Somewhere, deep down within him, Adrien was calling out for her, asking her— _begging_ her—to prove him wrong. To prove that she did indeed know a part of him, at least just a tiny bit. That she hadn’t been one of the many stupid girls to fall for his fabricated, pretty face, that she knew some core part of him, some piece that was important, that made him who he truly was, _anything._

He waited, watching her, his eyes searching, beseeching…

Marinette lowered her gaze.

She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t claim that she knew him anymore.

Because it wasn’t true.

She really hadn’t known Adrien at all.

The hot, sick flash of shame that crawled through her, burning through her skin, was enough to attest to that cold, hard fact.

The silence thickened, tension in the air palpable. Marinette knew that she should probably say something, but her mind was blank. All she could process was the intense shock that pounded through her at the realization that came seven years too late.

A sudden beep cut through the silence of the room, followed by the cool voice of the secretary from downstairs.

“Mr. Agreste, your next appointment is here to see you.”

Marinette kept her eyes carefully averted as Adrien moved away from her, his steps silent as he approached his desk. There was another beep, and his carefully composed voice answered:

“Thank you, Sylvia. Inform them that I’m just wrapping up my last meeting, and I’ll be with them in a few minutes.”

Marinette saw her escape and took it. Shoving her shameful work in progress back into the garment bag, she yanked the zipper shut, snatched her sketchbook from the coffee table, and swiftly made her escape, willing her knees not to give in under her as she fled to the elevator. She pressed the button, and to her relief, the doors opened immediately—

“Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette froze. She was starting to really hate the sound of her last names coming from him.

Reluctantly, she turned back around to face him. He wasn’t looking at her—he was back at the window, eyes on the sky, hands clasped behind his back.

“I will see you in two weeks. I hope you’ll have something a little more impressive to show me, the next time we meet.”

Marinette said nothing. Her chest heaving with the effort of restraining herself from throwing anything, she simply stepped into the elevator, staring at Adrien’s back until the elevator doors obscured him, and she was descending.

Adrien waited, listening for the sound of the elevator to leave. And then he turned around, scowling at the bookcase.

“Plagg, get out here.”

The black, cat-like kwami zoomed into view, looking very lazy as he floated through the air on his back, arms crossed behind his head.

“Wow, that was a teensy bit harsh, wouldn’t you say?” He commented idly, floating near Adrien’s cheek and peeking at him with a green eye. “Why so cold, Adrien? I thought this was your chance to start over.”

“It is,” Adrien insisted, turning his gaze back to the scenery. He saw none of it, as if the entire city of Paris was determined to evade his gaze. So he focused on the sky instead—at least then he had an excuse to look at nothing.

“By alienating former friends?”

“By destroying the image that was Adrien Agreste for so long,” Adrien asserted, momentarily distracted by his own scowl in the reflection of his window. He hastily smoothed out his brow—no wrinkles in this face allowed.

“You probably made her cry, you know.”

He did. He regretted it. Despite the fact that they really _hadn’t_ known each other well, after their first misunderstanding, Marinette had been nothing but kind to him in the past…even if she often stumbled and tripped over her own tongue when speaking to him. Those brief bouts of sass he’d witnessed in her from afar—usually when she was goading Chloe—had clearly multiplied in occasion, if their last two conversations was proof of anything…he had a funny feeling Alya was to blame for that.

“You heard what she said, didn’t you? About you being the love of her youth?”

Adrien felt his face heat up despite himself.

“She didn’t say that.”

“She didn’t finish, yes, but I’m certain that’s where that sentence was going.”

Adrien firmly shook his head.

“I doubt it. There’s no way she could’ve been in love with someone like me. In Dupont, even if Chloe always teased her, she was surrounded by so much light and warmth—both from her classmates and her parents. Everyone loved her. What would she have wanted from someone like me?”

Plagg sighed.

“Twenty-two years old and you’re still like this,” he complained loftily. “No wonder you can’t keep a girlfriend.”

Adrien scowled at this.

“I’m not interested in just any woman,” he said quietly, bringing his right hand up to his face. The silver ring nestled on his fourth finger glistened in the sunlight, and he closed his hand into a fist.

“Yes, yes, I know, Ladybug, you want Ladybug, I _knooow._ ” Plagg sighed, flipping over in the air and landing on Adrien’s shoulder. “You’re going to let that woman ruin you if you keep obsessing over her, you know.”

“I am not obsessed.”

Plagg gave him a flat look.

“You’ve been keeping tabs on her for _eight years_ , Adrien. You are the very _definition_ of ‘obsessed’.”

Now Adrien seized Plagg by his tail, scowling at the upside-down kwami as he hung limply from Adrien’s grasp.

“Enough,” he chided, “I only called you out here to warn you to _behave yourself._ Marinette saw you moving around, so knock it off.”

“Ohhh, _Marinette_ now, is she? I thought she was only ‘Miss Dupain-Cheng’. Do you have something against using her first name?”

“I was trying to be professional.”

“Or you were trying to be distant. Either way, mission accomplished.” Plagg gave a sarcastic round of applause, and Adrien dropped him with a huff just as the intercom on his desk beeped again.

“Mr. Agreste, should I send your next appointment up now?”

Adrien stifled his sigh, made the “I’m-watching-you” sign with his fingers at Plagg (who rolled his green eyes), and pressed a button to answer his secretary.

“Yes, Sylvia, send them up.”

No more thoughts about Ladybug for now. Adrien had work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, REALLY DID NOT WANT TO END IT HERE, but once again, there was TOO MUCH GOING ON, and I didn't want to write a forty-page chapter, so, this is where I decided to end it. Grrr.
> 
> The second part will hopefully be up soon. :P
> 
> P.S. You will have to claw bisexual!Alya from my cold, undead fingers. FIGHT ME.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	4. Strangers pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only four chapters and this fic is already over a hundred pages.
> 
> *Face palms*
> 
> Someone stop me, because I clearly need to be helped.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

“Marinette, please, tell me what’s wrong. I’m really worried.”

Marinette shook her head, where it was buried in her pillow. Though Tikki had been trying to coax her for half an hour now, she refused to look at her kwami. She didn’t deserve her concern.

She was so _embarrassed._ To be told, to her face, by the former love of her life that she hadn’t known _anything_ about him was, to put it lightly, _shattering_. Even now, a part of her still wanted to deny it, wanted to deny that she had been completely ignorant for so long, that the Adrien that had her smitten had existed in _some_ way. But her more rational mind laughed at her. Her, know Adrien Agreste? Having all his photos up on her bedroom walls didn’t mean that Marinette knew him. Attending the same school at him, sitting just behind him in the same class, did not mean that Marinette knew him. The few opportunities she snatched to be alone with him did _not_ mean that Marinette _knew_ him.

And the fact that it had taken so long for that truth to be brought to her attention made her want to crawl under her covers and never face the light of day again.

“Marinette—” Tikki tried again, but was interrupted by the abrupt sound of a news cast beginning, cutting through the mindless sitcom Marinette had turned on to drown out the sound of her sniffling. Marinette made herself sit up, rubbing the moisture from her face and blinking her eyes, trying to rid herself of the blurriness so she could focus.

“Good evening, Paris. With the apparent resurrection of the supervillain known as Hawk Moth, there has been a resurgence of akuma terrorizing the city once again. We take you live to the Pont des Arts, where an akumatized victim, going by the alias ‘Seductra’ has been rampaging.”

The camera view switched, showing an akuma in a tight red corset dress, black knee-high boots and long black gloves striding across the lock-laden bridge, her luxurious dark brown hair falling in soft curls to her shoulders, a black mask with white film hiding her eyes from view. There was a dark rose pinned to one side of her hair, tucked just above her ear, her fingertips brushing it as she flipped her hair at a nearby man. His jaw slackened, eyes glazing over. Ignoring the cries of the woman he was with, he slumped like a zombie towards the akuma.

A love-sick zombie.

“Seductra, a few questions!” The familiar voice of Nadja Chamack called, rushing just ahead of the camera as she approached the akuma. Were she in a better mood, Marinette would have huffed under her breath. Why did reporters insist on putting themselves in danger, all for a news cast? It made no sense to her, and added grievances to her job…especially when Alya was involved.

“Seductra, can you tell us what caused this sudden surge of…mind-controlling powers?” Nadja asked urgently, daring to shove her microphone in the akuma’s face. She didn’t seem to mind, however, and seized the microphone on her own, clearing her throat daintily.

“I, Seductra, am on a mission—I seek Adrien Agreste. He has spurned my advances for too long, and now, he will _pay._ I will make every single man in Paris my slave and part of my personal army, and if Adrien Agreste does not show himself within the hour, I will hunt him down myself. So come out, Adrien. I’m waiting for you~”

She blew a kiss to the camera, and quite abruptly, it fell to the ground—it was probably safe to assume that the cameraman had joined the ranks of Seductra’s mindless army.

“Oh no!” Tikki zoomed into the air, giving Marinette an anxious look. “Marinette, I know you’re not feeling well right now, but—”

“It’s okay, Tikki,” Marinette said, wiping her face free of excess moisture before she got to her feet, determination hardening her features. “There’s no use crying over problems I can’t solve, but this is something I _can_ do.”

Tikki breathed a sigh of relief, and Marinette smiled.

“Tikki, transform me!” She cried, and Tikki obligingly zoomed into her earrings. With a blur of red sparkles, Marinette became Ladybug, and she leapt out into the Parisian night, letting her yo-yo fly.

The Seine came into view soon enough, and the scene on the Pont des Arts was enough to make Ladybug pause on a nearby rooftop, gaping. There had to be about _fifty_ men in Seductra’s army already, and they all trailed after her confident strut, like love-sick puppies.

“Her powers only seem to work on men,” Ladybug murmured to herself, straightening up as she gripped her chin in thought. “And she wants Adrien, huh…”

Well, this had to be the first time in history that Adrien Agreste had caused an akuma…but with his brand-new attitude, Ladybug didn’t find that as surprising as she might have, once.

Ladybug leapt to the adjacent rooftop, studying the akuma now. Her posture was perfect, and she walked like she was on a cat walk, suggesting that she might be a model in her civilian life. That might explain the connection between her and Adrien…but then again, Ladybug couldn’t be certain of anything, at this point. For all she knew, Chloe Bourgeois could be under that mask.

“I bet the akuma is in that rose in her hair,” she muttered to herself, zeroing in on the dark rose nestled in Seductra’s dark locks. “If I play this right, it should be pretty easy to capture it…as long as a certain cat jerk doesn’t show up—”

“Are my ears burning?”

“Is your head on fire?” Ladybug shot back, sending a dry look to the dark shadow that just appeared beside her. Chat Noir slid a grin her way, and while that might’ve made her just roll her eyes once upon a time, now, it made Ladybug’s lips harden into a line. That’s right—she had to talk to _this_ jerk, too. Ugh, too many jerks today, she was going to have a headache later.

“So, that’s the akuma, huh?” Chat Noir leaned over, the muscles in his shoulders working, as if he was preparing to pounce.

“Do you see anyone else leading the love zombies?” Ladybug reached out and seized Chat’s tail once again. “And you’re not going down there.”

Chat looked up, blinking in surprise.

How could he look so shocked?

“Why not?”

‘ _Oh, I don’t know…because you might try to_ throttle _the akumatized victim…?_ ’

“She’s making the men of the city her slaves,” she pointed out, waving at Seductra, who had just winked at a passing man. Instantly, he dropped what he was holding and joined the ranks of her mindless followers. “And we’ve had too many close calls with you being under the influence of an akuma for you to go anywhere near her.”

Chat’s eyes glittered strangely behind his mask.

“Are you benching me, My Lady?”

The nickname made Ladybug scowl. She couldn’t believe he was trying to be so informal with her after what he almost did last week…but she had a stash of cookies on her civilian form should Tikki’s transformation run out, so scolding him could wait until later; she wasn’t about to let him get away tonight.

“No,” she eventually answered his question, pulling out her yo-yo computer to quickly punch in letters. “I’m sending you in the opposite direction. Seductra’s after Adrien Agreste—something about him rebuffing her advances or something.”

“Really.” Chat sounded thoughtful for a moment, but Ladybug didn’t look at him, focusing instead on her screen as it pinpointed Adrien’s residence. She was a little surprised when it pulled up a place on the opposite side of the city from where he once lived as a boy…but perhaps there were too many unhappy memories for him to return to his childhood home. She hit the send button, satisfied when Chat’s baton beeped.

“I’ve sent you the address. Make sure he’s safe—you’re going to be the last resort if I can’t stop Seductra here.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to just take care of her now?” He stood up, rolling his neck. “If, by some miracle, she gets by you, and I’m the last defense, all she has to do is use her powers on me, and then I’ll hand Adrien Agreste right to her.”

Ladybug frowned. He had a point. She hated that.

“She won’t get by me,” she replied stubbornly, casting her yo-yo out, prepared to intercept Seductra and her army of love-sick men. As she tensed, prepared to fly, a clawed hand gripped her shoulder. Ladybug startled, jumping away from Chat. He blinked, apparently surprised at her reaction. But when she frowned at him, he gave a shrug.

“I can help,” he insisted, looking so sincere that Ladybug almost hesitated. But all she had to do was glance down at his hands—the way his claws flexed, as if itching to get around someone’s throat—and her resolve solidified. He would not be getting anywhere near this akuma. Not if Ladybug had anything to say about it.

“Help by keeping Adrien Agreste safe,” she told him sternly. And then she was off, swinging through the street, coming to a landing a few meters from the akuma. Seductra paused, and so did her hoard, giving Ladybug just enough time to straighten up and smirk at her. A quick glance to the rooftop she had just jumped from told her that Chat Noir was no longer there. She hoped he had taken her orders seriously, because she really was _not_ in the mood to deal with this strange new callous attitude he had towards the bad guys.

“My goodness, all this fuss over one man?” Ladybug asked, whirling her yo-yo beside her. “You’ve got it bad, Seductra.”

Seductra’s scarlet lips pursed.

“Don’t get in my way, Ladybug,” she threatened her. Something about her cool voice tickled the back of Ladybug’s mind, and she squinted, as if she could see right through that mask… “I’ve wanted this for years. I will not let you stop me.”

“What’s so great about Adrien Agreste?” Ladybug dared to question, a hand on her cocked hip as she gave Seductra a flat look. “Sure, he’s a pretty face, but have you talked to him lately? Guy didn’t turn out so nice, in the end.”

“You know nothing about Adrien Agreste, Ladybug.” There was a steel note in the akuma’s tone now. “I have watched him for so long, helped him grow into the success he is becoming. He may not have wanted me when I was simply working for him, but now that I am powerful, he will see the error of his ways. I will _make_ him see the error of his ways.”

Well, that was threatening. A few years ago, Ladybug would have bristled at the thought of anyone trying to force Adrien into a romance he might not want. But she was older now, wiser. And while the thought of this akuma wanting to force anyone into a relationship upset her, Ladybug was able to think through it to try and pinpoint said akuma’s identity.

She said she worked for him…but that could be anyone, from models to employees to—

_“Mr. Agreste will see you now.”_

That cool, collected voice…

“Sylvia,” Ladybug accused, and Seductra flinched. “So you’re in love with your boss…I sympathize. But even _you_ must see he’s not all that great, don’t you? Why go through all the trouble if he treats you so terribly?”

“You don’t know anything!” The composed mask was slipping, and Seductra now bared her teeth. “I will have him, and you will _not_ stop me!” She pointed a directing finger at Ladybug, turning to her love-sick army. “Attack!”

‘ _Annnd here we go._ ’ Ladybug sighed inwardly as the men who knew not what they did lunged at her, their war chant “For Seductraaaaa!!!” tearing through the streets of Paris. Ladybug’s mind went into auto-pilot as her body did most of the work, ducking and dodging and punching and swiping, using the bigger opponents’ weight against them, causing them to run into or fall over or crush the others. It was a good workout, Ladybug had to admit, feeling the uncomfortable tension of the day leaving her as she fought, but this was not her goal. As she wrapped one man up in her yo-yo and sent him whirling into oncoming zombie traffic, Ladybug glanced around, gritting her teeth when she saw Seductra fleeing the scene. She was getting away!

“Sorry, boys, but I don’t have any more time to play. Gotta go!” With a salute, Ladybug took off from the scene, her yo-yo flinging her skyward. She kept her eyes on Seductra, who was quite fast, despite how high her heeled boots were, waiting for just the right moment to drop down on her—

A flash of black flew past, and suddenly, there was Chat Noir, sliding down his staff and cutting Seductra off.

Ladybug growled under her breath.

“Well hello, Beautiful,” she could hear him purring from below, and her stomach turned as he dared to step closer to the akuma. “Lovely evening, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Oh, what a pretty kitty,” Seductra hummed, and Ladybug cursed Chat Noir to the deepest pit in existence as she swung down into the alley. “You’ll be _purr-_ fect for my collection.”

“Hey lady, you may be gorgeous, but cat puns are _my_ thing,” Chat Noir said, looking almost indignant…like his old self. The contrast made Ladybug’s heart constrict, and she touched down behind Seductra just in time for the akuma to blow a kiss Chat Noir’s way. Growling under her breath at the situation, Ladybug sent her yo-yo out, wrapping around one of Chat’s ankles. She gave an almighty tug, and with a small yelp, he went down, sliding past Seductra with a cheeky salute.

“What did I say?” She told him, scowling as he jumped back to his feet after she relinquished her yo-yo. Chat gave her a shrug.

“Adrien Agreste is safe, don’t worry.” He leapt out of the way as Seductra blew another kiss his way. “Don’t you have bigger things to worry about at the moment anyway? Perhaps, the akuma trying to enslave all the men of Paris?”

“Don’t you tell me how to do my job!” She called after him as he jumped around on all fours, making it very hard for Seductra to catch him.

“Then do it,” he reasoned simply, landing for a second in front of Ladybug, his eyes glinting. “Or I’ll do it for you.”

Was that a _threat?_

Ladybug upped Chat Noir’s future ass-kicking from “big” to “ _huge fucking ass-kicking_ ”.

While Seductra was distracted trying to cast her womanly wiles on Chat, Ladybug used her Lucky Charm. A silk, polka-dotted sash popped out, and Ladybug sighed to herself. These things could never be straightforward, could they?

No matter: her eyes spotted a nearby dumpster, the top closed—she could use that as a springboard—Chat’s baton, which he was using to swing around, avoiding the charms sent his way, and Seductra herself. Thinking through quickly, Ladybug ran up the left wall of the alley, towards the dumpster. She gave one strong hop, and flung herself towards Chat’s extended pole, pushing off on his shoulders, simultaneously sending him down the pole to avoid Seductra’s blown kiss, and sending Ladybug forward, directly at the akuma. She gave a yelp, her arms going up to protect herself—perfect.

Casting out her yo-yo, Ladybug swung around Seductra, using the silk sash to wrap around her so tightly from head to toe that just a tiny wiggle of struggle caused her to fall over, unable to move. Dropping down to the ground again, Ladybug swiped the rose from Seductra’s hair and tossed it to the ground. She brought her leg up high to stomp down on it, but then paused.

Would this akumatized item be impossible for her to break as well? She didn’t see how it could be, it was just a flower. But what if…

Her knee pulsed unpleasantly, as if to remind her of her last failure. Her teeth clenching together, Ladybug slowly lowered her leg, choosing instead to pick up the rose and toss it Chat’s way.

“Destroy it,” she ordered simply. Much like last time, Chat gave her a long look before he ultimately shrugged and did as she commanded.

“Cataclysm!”

Within seconds, the rose was ripped to shreds, and the akuma popped out. Ladybug braced herself, dreading the inexplicable screaming…but there was nothing. It merely flapped away, desperate to escape. But Ladybug wasn’t having it, and one purification ritual later, it was a harmless little butterfly once more, flitting away into the night.

Unraveling the silk sash from Seductra—who was de-akumatizing—Ladybug tossed it into the air.

“Miraculous Ladybug!”

And just like that, the spell was broken. In the distance, Ladybug could hear confused grumblings from the men who had been enslaved, all wondering what had happened and how they got there. Ladybug ignored them, certain they would find their own ways home, and went over to Sylvia, who was stirring feebly.

“It’s okay,” she promised when Sylvia woke with a start. “You’re going to be fine.”

“Oh, Ladybug! Thank goodness…thank you.” It was the least composed Ladybug had ever seen her, and yet she didn’t judge, merely helping her to her feet.

“Can I help you get home?”

Sylvia was flushed, closing her eyes as she breathed in and out slowly.

“Thank you, but…I think I’ll head home on my own. I’m…a little embarrassed.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Ladybug insisted, but her eyes found Chat as he stood a ways away, his staff resting across his shoulders, wrists draped over the staff as well. “It wasn’t intentional, so it’s not your fault. You’re not the bad guy.”

Chat’s eyes glittered, inscrutable.

“Thank you, Ladybug,” Sylvia thanked again, carefully shifting her hair to one side. “But I’m fine, I promise.”

“Then a word of advice,” Ladybug said, laying a hand on Sylvia’s shoulder and fixing her with a serious stare. “Any guy that doesn’t give you the time of day isn’t worth _your_ time, either. You could do better. A lot better.”

Sylvia flushed deeper and lowered her head, but she gave the tiniest of nods before she walked away, arms crossed around her.

“A lot better, huh?” Ladybug hated herself for jumping at the sudden voice at her ear. “Sounds like you’re not too fond of Adrien Agreste.”

“Speaking of him,” she began, turning to glare at Chat, “didn’t I send you to protect him?”

“Yeah.” Chat shrugged carelessly. “And I just checked in because he’s a grown man who can look after himself.”

“You should’ve stayed put.”

“I could’ve. But then I remembered that you’re not the boss of me.”

Ladybug scowled. Boy, he was just refusing to be a team player, wasn’t he?

“We need to talk,” she stated once again, though admittedly, her thoughts were more on punching Chat Noir than talking to him.

In response, his Miraculous chirped.

“Whoops. Looks like I’m almost out of time.” He made to jump away, but Ladybug seized the back of his collar this time, making him yelp as she tugged, his bell jingling with the motion.

“We are not done here, Chat Noir.”

Chat turned, giving her an exasperated look.

“I realize that, My Lady,” he told her in a tone she took to be condescending, “but I’m about to lose my transformation.”

“So?” Chat’s eyes widened at the question, but Ladybug continued, “You’ve been amiable to the idea of revealing our identities to each other before. Or did that change too, while you were gone?”

Chat turned slowly to face her, Ladybug’s grip shifting to his arm. His eyes were suddenly narrowed, focused on her, a starving cat spying a fat bird.

“Does that mean I get to find out who you are, then?”

Ladybug scowled. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m not showing you mine unless I get to see yours,” Chat countered with a stubborn look of his own, arms folded across his chest. Ladybug wanted to point out that she wasn’t the one in the hot seat at the moment, but his Miraculous beeped again, and she huffed. Now was not the time to argue—there would be plenty time for that after he refueled his kwami.

“Meet me at the Eiffel Tower in ten minutes,” she told him sternly, finally letting go of his arm, as if further contact would harm her. “I’m going to go check on Adrien, and I’ll meet you there.”

“Didn’t I say he’s fine?” Chat sighed, ruffling the back of his blonde hair, jostling his ponytail. “Why are you so obsessed with him?”

“I’m doing my _job_ ,” Ladybug growled, hating that her face felt warm at the insinuation. “I’m serious, Chat, you better show up. Don’t make me hunt you down.”

Chat’s eyes glittered, and he smirked at the challenge.

“I think you’ll discover that I’m a bit harder to sniff out than you believe,” he teased. “After all, I did disappear for seven years. What stopped you from finding me then?”

“I didn’t have the time to be hunting for strays,” Ladybug shot back, setting her yo-yo loose. She pointed a stern finger at him. “Ten minutes, Chat Noir.”

“I may be pretty, but I’m not dumb, My Lady. I heard you the first time.”

Scowling, Ladybug left first, letting her yo-yo send her high into the air in a vain hope to leave her irritation behind on the ground. What the _hell_ was his problem?! Honestly, the sooner she got this sorted out, the better.

Her Miraculous beeped its first warning of the night—Tikki was getting tired. Ladybug sighed and swung her way through Paris. If she remembered correctly, Adrien now lived on the west side of the city…

She found the address soon enough, pausing on the rooftop behind the building.

It lacked the extravagance of his previous residence, perhaps by choice, but it was still elegant—everything was just a more reasonable size. The gate out front was not giant, but modest, and there were no walls surrounding the house, just fences. He even had a little garden out front, which was nice.

Ladybug forced herself to focus, swinging around the house. A back window was lit up, and so she carefully approached, leaping onto the balcony.

It was Adrien’s room. It was smaller than the one from his youth, more functional: a large, king-sized bed sat off to the side, outfitted in dark sheets, and there was a sitting area facing the T.V. on the opposite wall. Instead of the rock-climbing wall and the arcade games, there was merely a desk on which his computer monitors sat—three just like his office. On the far wall, next to the door that must enter into the hallway, sat a large painting Ladybug had only seen once, when she had met Gabriel Agreste for the first time. Adrien’s mother looked down on the room, her kind, benevolent features somewhat distorted by the odd art style of patterns of the painting, as if the artist hadn’t wanted anyone to look at her too closely. Despite its strangeness, it was still unbearably beautiful, and it was here that Ladybug found Adrien, standing in front of it. Swallowing her nerves, Ladybug crept forward, tapping at the glass.

Adrien turned, his green eyes widening at the sight of her. Ladybug made herself stand straight, reminding herself that she was not Marinette right now, that she could do this…that she could not avoid seeing Adrien as Ladybug forever…

Adrien opened his door, stepping out onto the balcony. He was dressed casually in a white tank top and black sweat pants, as if he had been getting ready for bed, but his tank top stuck to him, clinging to the planes of his body and leaving little to the imagination.

If Ladybug hadn’t already seen him shirtless, she would’ve ogled him right then and there. She also knew now that his pretty face was disguising razor sharp teeth, and so she held herself in check with ease, waiting until he approached her.

“Ladybug,” he greeted, somewhat breathless. Ladybug made herself breathe evenly, nodding towards Adrien.

“You’re okay. That’s good.”

Adrien tilted his head to the side, frowning slightly at her.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“There was an akuma attack earlier,” Ladybug explained, leaning against the balcony railing behind her, her arms crossed. “The victim was your secretary. Sylvia, right?”

His frown grew more pronounced.

“Yes…is she all right?”

“She is…but it seems she was akumatized because of…her feelings for you. She said something about you ‘spurning her advances’…”

Adrien sighed, rubbing his temple and glancing away awkwardly.

“She thought a bouquet of roses that arrived for her today was from me. They weren’t, so naturally, I told her the truth...but she didn’t take it well, admittedly.” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “I’ll talk to her. Thank you.”

Ladybug nodded. There was an awkward moment, in which they just stared at each other. She felt she had to say more—that Adrien was owed more from her, despite her personal feelings towards him at the moment—but how in the world did she begin?

Her Miraculous gave another beep, and Ladybug sighed. As much as she hated leaving things unresolved, she had to meet Chat in a few minutes, and she needed time for Tikki to rest before she did that. Sadly, it appeared that this conversation would have to wait for another time.

“Well…glad to see that you’re okay,” she said with another nod, still feeling awkward as she stepped away, hopping onto the balcony railing. “Sorry to interrupt your night—”

“Ladybug.”

A hand slipped around her wrist as she raised her yo-yo, and she glanced over sharply, surprised at the sudden gesture. Adrien seemed surprised as well; he blinked, and then hastily let go, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced away from her. A warm blush spread through his face, and Ladybug stared, like…

Like she was looking at fifteen year old Adrien Agreste.

The one that twenty-two year old Adrien Agreste said never existed.

‘ _So how do you explain this?_ ’ She wanted to ask him, frowning to herself. If that boy she had been in love with wasn’t real in the first place, then what was she supposed to make of such a display?

After a moment, Adrien cleared his throat and seemed to regain his nerve.

“Ladybug, I…would like to talk to you.” He glanced up at her, green eyes uncertain, guarded. “If you have the time.”

She wanted to have the time. She really did. But…

_Beep beep!_

Ladybug put a hand to her earring and sighed.

“I would like to talk to you, too, Adrien,” she admitted, giving him a helpless look. “But I’m afraid I can’t stay. Maybe next time?”

She raised her yo-yo again, but this only made Adrien take her wrist once more. She paused, staring at him as he gazed up at her, that strange desperation she had seen earlier that day coming into his eyes once more and closing up her throat.

“When?” He asked, his fingers flexing over her wrist. As if he was afraid that if he let go, he would never see her again.

Which made Ladybug stop and think: _would_ she ever bother to see him again as Ladybug?

The tightness of his eyes, despite Ladybug’s reservations, made the decision for her.

“How about Friday? I’ll stop by again, around this time. Sound good?”

The tension left his expression, and he let out a quiet sigh, letting his fingers slide away from her wrist.

“Yes. I’ll, uh, see you then.”

Ladybug nodded, giving a tentative smile. A corner of his mouth quirked up, which was enough, and she was flying again.

A block away from the Eiffel Tower, Ladybug made herself stop. Her transformation was about to break, and she didn’t want to be out in the open when it happened, so she dropped down into one of the many convenient alleyways in Paris, catching Tikki as her transformation dispelled.

“Here you go, Tikki,” Marinette crooned, handing the kwami a well-earned cookie. “I promise, we’re almost done.”

“What are you going to say to Chat Noir?” Tikki asked through a mouthful of chocolate. Marinette frowned, glancing around her, paranoid of the shadows.

“I don’t know yet…but I _do_ want answers. None of this is making any sense: why is there another Hawk Moth on the loose? What does he want? And _why_ didn’t Chat deliver the Miraculous to Master Fu like he was supposed to? And where does he get off trying to _kill_ the victims of the akuma attacks? There’s so much going on that I don’t understand.”

Marinette shook her head, her loose hair brushing her shoulders. She had long since stopped wearing pigtails herself; they automatically appeared when she transformed into Ladybug now, as if it was Tikki’s preferred hairstyle on her. She was still dressed in her pajamas, and she shivered in the chilly air, which prompted Tikki to eat faster. The sooner they could get this over with, the better.

Once Tikki had swallowed the rest of her cookie in one big gulp, she helped Marinette transform once again, and Ladybug zipped up to the very top of the Eiffel Tower, where she sat down, folded her arms, and waited.

She counted twenty seconds in her head before she could just make out the sound of muted footsteps behind her.

“Ten minutes,” Chat Noir quoted at her. He sat down a certain distance from her, as if he knew space was required for this conversation. Ladybug was both thankful and bothered by the necessity. She merely watched for a moment as Chat let one leg swing from where they sat, his other leg bent, his arm resting over his knee. His cat eyes flicked around the city, looking anywhere but at her. After a tense minute, he finally spoke. “You wanted to talk?”

“Yes,” Ladybug confirmed, getting to her feet. Chat eyed her from the corner of his eyes, but she ignored the look, leaning against one of the tower’s beams, her mouth thinning into a hard line once more. “Let’s start with these akuma attacks that have been happening. Why is there another Hawk Moth on the loose when I gave the Butterfly Miraculous to _you_ to take care of?”

“Ah…” Chat rubbed the back of his head, grinning sheepishly, causing Ladybug to scowl. How dare he try and look cute right now. “Well, uh, honestly, Ladybug, the truth is…I kind of, er…lost the Butterfly Miraculous.”

Years ago, while Ladybug would have been annoyed, she would have accepted this, trusting that Chat hadn’t been careless on purpose—bad things just tended to happen to him, after all.

…Now, however…

“That’s convenient,” she said dryly, and Chat’s gaze turned to focus on her.

“You don’t believe me?” His tone was insulted, but his eyes were guarded.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” Ladybug insisted, stepping towards him with a frown. “How did you lose the Butterfly Miraculous?”

Chat huffed.

“I’m…not sure,” he admitted, glancing away as Ladybug’s gaze narrowed. “I was gonna take it to Master Fu the day after…after what happened to Hawk Moth…”

Ladybug stiffened at the mention, but she didn’t say anything, merely nodding her head, silently urging him to continue.

“I was busy that day with—some stuff—but I managed to stop by for a minute. I stopped by Master Fu’s, but when I got there, he wasn’t home. I didn’t think it was safe to just leave the Butterfly Miraculous out in the open, but as I was trying to find a hiding place, something…jumped out at me.”

Ladybug’s frown deepened.

“What do you mean, ‘something’?”

“I mean like some _thing._ I couldn’t tell what it was, not even with my night vision. And it was too fast for me to look at it, let alone catch it—before I knew it, it swiped the Butterfly Miraculous and darted away out an open window before I even knew what happened.”

Chat growled under his breath, his claws flexing; the memory was still frustrating, it appeared. Ladybug inspected him, staring hard, as if she could penetrate the secrets hidden beneath that mask. How sad it was that this day had arrived, the day she found that she just couldn’t trust Chat’s word for what it was. He had been her partner once upon a time…but now, he was suspicious. Mysterious.

A stranger.

“You didn’t chase after it?” Ladybug wanted to verify. Chat Noir frowned up at her.

“How would I have? It disappeared before I could even get to the window it got out of. I looked all around the massage parlor, but it was just…gone.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“I was kind of on a time crunch, Ladybug.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I had other things to do,” he said evasively, not looking at her. This brought back Ladybug’s scowl, and she moved closer to him, her arms tightly crossed.

“Okay then, next question: where have you been the last seven years?”

Chat’s gaze cut to her again, his expression guarded.

“I can’t tell you that, Ladybug.”

Ladybug’s eyes narrowed.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s none of your business.”

“Chat!” Ladybug burst out in frustration, stomping her foot. “What is _wrong_ with you?!”

Quite unruffled by her attitude, Chat leaned back to gaze up at her, his form-fitting outfit paying his body so many compliments that Ladybug had to work to ignore them. It didn’t matter how attractive he’d gotten, damn it. This was wrong, _he_ was wrong. And Ladybug needed to know _why_.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Chat contradicted her nonetheless, staring up at her with an inscrutable expression once again. “I’ve just grown up, Ladybug. And I know enough about how I work to know that I don’t always have to take orders from you. Your way of stopping the akumas isn’t the only way.”

“So _murder_ is the correct answer now?” She questioned, hands on her hips as she stared down at him, eyes desperately searching for any sign of her former partner…but his expression still gave nothing away. “Have you even considered the fact that the akuma could just _fly_ _away_ after you kill an innocent victim, thereby not solving the problem at all, but creating an entirely new one?! These people don’t _choose_ to become akuma! Heroes don’t murder victims, Chat Noir, no matter what!”

His pupils contracted at her.

“Hawk Moth,” he said simply. The reminder was designed to hurt her, and while Ladybug felt the sharp sting, she did not let it control her. She had made peace with what she had done, and she would not allow Chat Noir to disturb that peace.

“Stop throwing that in my face,” she ordered him, her voice low and furious. “That was a mistake. You know it was.”

“But are you really sorry he’s dead?”

“Of course I am!” Ladybug burst out, the passion of her cry apparently startling Chat. “Do you really think there’s ever a day when I _don’t_ regret that he’s dead?! Hell, I’d rather it be _him_ we’re fighting right now than some unknown copycat!” She lowered her voice and her fist, which had clenched unconsciously in front of her, tearing her gaze away from Chat. “He might have been a villain…but he was still a person, under the mask. Just like you…and just like me.”

“We’re nothing like Hawk Moth,” Chat spat with an amount of venom that surprised Ladybug. “We don’t turn people into monsters.”

“No,” Ladybug agreed, turning her eyes onto Chat Noir. “But we don’t kill them for becoming monsters, either.”

For the first time, there was a spark of something in Chat’s eyes that made Ladybug lean forward, hope surging in her chest. It was uncertainty, and he seemed to have noticed that she had noticed, for he looked away from her again. But Ladybug pressed her perceived advantage; she knelt down, hesitating for a moment…before she laid a hand on his shoulder.

He was warm beneath her touch.

“Costumes don’t make us heroes, Chat. Our compassion—even for our enemy—does.”

Chat returned his gaze to her, seeming to measure her with his eyes for one long moment. Ladybug kept his gaze, willing him to believe in the wise words of their master, hoping with all her might that he could be convinced—

Chat sighed in defeat. Ladybug’s heart leapt as he got up, shaking off her hand.

“Well, My Lady…I’m sad to say it, but I feel that we’ve come to an impasse.”

Her heart immediately dropped to the pit of her stomach. Slowly, she stood up, staring at Chat Noir’s profile. He had changed, certainly, but it wasn’t the physical changes she was seeing in him now, but the ones within. He’d become feral.

“…Meaning?” She dared to ask after a moment. Chat shrugged, turning his back on her as he strode away.

“Meaning that you can keep doing things your way…and I’ll do things my way.”

She waited until he’d reached the end of the beam they were standing on, peering down, as if he was pondering if he would still land on all fours from such a height. The urge to push him was irrational, and she stifled it immediately.

“You do realize this means I’ll have to stop you,” Ladybug said to his back, and that cold fact hardened the already freezing air between them. Chat straightened up again, turning to her. His smirk was almost familiar. Almost.

“You can certainly try.” His smirk became a savage grin. “In fact, I look forward to it, My Lady.”

Ladybug’s fists tightened at her sides.

“I am _not_ yours,” she spat at him.

But this only made him chuckle.

“Hah. I know that.” Though he grinned as wide as he could, Ladybug still spotted it—the hint of pain in his gaze, as if he, too, could feel the crevice cracking open between them, vast, deep, and most importantly, impassable.

Irreparable.

“After all,” he continued quietly, turning to fully face her, that painful grin still in place, striking an unexpected chord within her, “you were never mine to begin with.”

The bow he gave her was ironic, the salute even more so as he fell back, off the tower.

Despite the situation, Ladybug’s heart still leapt into her throat, and she rushed forward, intending to send out her yo-yo to save him—

The flash of his staff in the distance drew her eyes. It was descending, shrinking just enough for him to jump to a nearby roof, using it as a propeller for leverage. As Ladybug watched, Chat Noir streaked off into the distance, becoming one with the night.

And Ladybug stood for a long moment at the top of the Eiffel Tower, the way she had for seven long years:

Alone.

 

* * *

 

“You’re quiet today.”

Marinette gave a start. It was one of those rare days when she didn’t have a million and one tasks to run for Symone, and so she just sat at her desk, idly doodling in her sketchbook. She was supposed to be working on designs for her _Carnivale_ line, but since her heart wasn’t really in it, it was slow-going. In fact, all she had managed to do was create a mask that was too eerily similar to Chat Noir’s.

Breathing a sigh, Marinette closed her sketchbook, finally glancing up to Felix. His face was as imperturbable as ever, but a pale eyebrow was slightly lifted. As if he found her ridiculous.

Marinette was beginning to hate that look on blonde men.

“I’m just tired,” she told him, which was true—she hadn’t slept at all the night before, too shell-shocked to shut her eyes. While it was true that, in the seven years of his absence, she had convinced herself that she didn’t need Chat Noir, the blatancy with which he’d ended their partnership the night before just illustrated how much Marinette had been counting on him to inexplicably return one of these days…and how devastating it felt to have her wish come true in all the wrong ways. She sighed again, though she repressed the forlorn sound of it, aware that she had company. Felix merely looked down at her for one more moment before setting down what he was holding—a yellow envelope.

“Symone has requested you deliver these mock-ups to Adrien Agreste…” He paused when Marinette groaned, slumping in her seat.

“Do I _have_ to?” That was another person she was not eager to see right now, the promise of Friday burning uncomfortably in the back of her mind. She never should have agreed. After all, what else could he want to see her for, if not to demand answers about the night his father died? True, he was owed the answers, but it didn’t mean that Marinette—Ladybug—was excited to give them. She just _had_ to go check on him, despite knowing that the akuma had never made it to him…Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng, everyone, a bona-fide glutton for punishment.

Felix lifted both his eyebrows this time.

“Do you have a problem with Mr. Agreste?”

“To put it in so many words,” Marinette grumbled. She sighed, her gaze briefly going to the ceiling before settling on Felix with a cringe. “I don’t have a choice, do I…?”

“Afraid not,” Felix replied, stoic as ever.

Marinette sighed one more time before deciding to pull on her big girl pants. She got to her feet, slinging her bag over her shoulder and tucking the yellow envelope inside.

“Fine, I’ll go deliver it to his office.”

“Symone specifically requested the envelope be delivered to his home address,” Felix corrected, and Marinette groaned.

“Super. All right, then I’m leaving—”

“Marinette,” Felix’s voice called her back, prompting Marinette to pause and look at him. There was something in his eyes that suggested she was behaving strangely. She frowned, but just as she opened her mouth to ask, he spoke. “I haven’t given you Mr. Agreste’s address yet.”

…Shit, he was right.

‘ _Amateur move. Way to go, Marinette._ ’

“Oh, right, ha ha,” she laughed it off, forcing an awkward grin. “I would’ve had to just come right back in after getting in my car, heh heh…”

Felix did not join in her laughter—Marinette was certain that he didn’t even know _how_ to laugh. He merely recited the address she already knew, and then nodded when she bade him farewell, something like speculation in his gaze. It made Marinette uncomfortable, and her departure from the boutique was all the more swift because of it.

During the twenty minute drive, Marinette scowled to herself.

The _last_ thing she wanted to do today was see Adrien Agreste after he had basically humiliated her the day before. In fact, there was a lot she had to say to him about that…or she would, if the memory of his desperate smile wasn’t so clear in her mind’s eye. She huffed, slowing to a stop at the traffic light and hitting her head against her steering wheel. Why did this have to happen to her? Her childhood crush calling her mediocre, her former partner turning to the dark side…why did her life seem to be unraveling so rapidly all of a sudden? Was the Hawk Moth copycat purposefully spreading discord in her life as punishment for her causing the death of their predecessor? Honestly, Marinette wouldn’t be surprised at this point.

There was a honk behind her, and she jumped, realizing that the light had turned green, and that she was holding up traffic. Cringing in apology in her rearview mirror, she pushed the gas pedal and drove off, mentally scolding herself for daring to be distracted while driving. A distracted Marinette while she was _walking_ was dangerous enough as is—she didn’t need to cause a traffic accident while wallowing in her angst.

All too soon, she reached the residence of Adrien Agreste for the second time in forty-eight hours. Marinette let herself sigh one final time, and then sucked in a calming breath. She could do this…this wasn’t about her…this was just an errand for Symone. Besides, it was likely that she wouldn’t even have to see Adrien—he probably wasn’t home, but even if he was, a butler or maid or something would probably come to the door and deliver the envelope for her. That thought was more comforting, and it strengthened Marinette’s resolve.

She could do this. She would not let Adrien Agreste get to her again. She _refused._

Getting out of the car, her spine straight, Marinette walked across the street, bag slung over her shoulder. She paused at the gate, wondering if she needed to buzz in or something, but there was no fancy technology nearby signaling such. In fact, there was just a handle on the gate. Marinette tried it, and it swung open easily. She took another breath. One hurdle down…

She passed through the garden, resisting the urge to stop and admire the flowers—Adrien must have one hell of a gardener. The sunset blazed at her back as she stepped up the stairs, pausing at the door. One more breath…in…out…

Marinette reached out a pale finger and pressed the doorbell. She could hear the chime echo from outside, and she waited, sternly telling herself not to fidget. In no time at all, the door began to open from the inside, and Marinette put on a smile, expecting to greet a butler—

Green eyes met hers, carefully styled blond hair above a tanned face, and below…

Marinette took one look and strangled the groan rising in her throat. He was only wearing the sweatpants she had seen him in last night, when she had come to check on him as Ladybug.

Why did Adrien Agreste _insist_ on being half-naked around her?!

For his part, Adrien merely blinked at her, surprise etched into his features. His, dumb, stupid, carved, devastatingly handsome features—

‘ _That’s mature. You gonna pull his hair and call him names next?_ ’

If Alya’s voice kept popping into Marinette’s brain whenever she had to deal with Adrien, she was gonna—

“Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Adrien greeted, seeming to gather himself together. “This is a surprise. I don’t…remember giving you my home address.”

She didn’t appreciate the implication that she was stalking him, and let the scowl on her face say as much. Nose in the air, she retrieved the envelope from her bag and held it out.

“I’m here on business,” she told him dryly. “I’m interning at _Tres Bien_ Boutique, and Symone asked me to deliver these to you. She was the one who gave me your address.”

“Ah.” Reaching out, Adrien took the envelope, the tips of his fingers brushing Marinette’s. She snatched her hand back too quickly, cursed herself, and tried to look unaffected as Adrien seemed to weigh the envelope within his grasp. “These are the mock-ups for her new winter line, I’m assuming.”

Marinette nodded, noting that Adrien sighed a little, as if he was being put out. She hardly sympathized—if Chloe hadn’t claimed Symone’s work as her own in the first place, then she wouldn’t be designing a whole new line. Really, Adrien should know better by now when it came to Chloe…but birds of a feather, Marinette supposed.

He set the envelope down on a table just inside the door before turning to look back at her, eyebrow quirked.

“…Is there something else?” He asked, bringing attention to the fact that Marinette was just standing there. She startled at the realization, and she hated, hated, _hated_ the blush that filled her face.

“No,” she said hastily, stepping back from him. “That’s it.”

She turned away, intending to leave. No reason for her to stick around—her job was done.

“…All right, then. Until next time, Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette paused.

And then, with speed and force that was very _un-Marinette-like_ , she whirled her palm into the door, halting it before it could close. Adrien’s face appeared around the door again, surprise flitting across his features once more.

“…You know what? That’s not all,” Marinette insisted, feeling her eyes burning as she held the door open, boring holes into Adrien. “As a matter of fact, there’s more.”

‘ _What are you doing?_ ’ Alya’s voice questioned, but she banished it to the back of her mind, her free hand balling into a fist. She wasn’t about to just walk away now—that would be like admitting defeat, like when she’d run from Adrien’s office yesterday.

And if there was anything Marinette hated, it was admitting defeat to a battle she could easily win, if only she tried.

Adrien stared at her a moment. He opened the door a little wider, so that her hand fell away from it, and propped himself against it, an arm resting on the corner of the door over his head, his free hand resting on his hip. Posing.

Marinette’s lips pursed, and before she could overthink it, she rushed into speech.

“You were unnecessarily rude to me yesterday,” she prefaced, scowling when Adrien sighed.

“That wasn’t rudeness, Miss Dupain-Cheng. It was constructive criticism, and if you want to survive in this business—”

“Shut up,” she snapped, and Adrien’s mouth shut, his eyebrows flying up. “Don’t you dare preach to me. I know what constructive criticism is, and that wasn’t it. If you truly meant to be constructive, you would have suggested changes I could’ve made to my design to make it more interesting. _That_ would have been helpful. But you didn’t do that. You just demeaned and belittled me.” Marinette narrowed her eyes at him. “You were callous.”

Adrien stared at her for an immeasurable moment. Marinette stared back, refusing to be the one to look away first…which was why she noticed immediately as his lip pulled down into a frown, damn near a pout. He glanced away from her, proving her the victor of the staring contest, a hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. He looked…tense. Uncomfortable.

Uncertain.

“…Well…” he began quietly, “perhaps I could’ve…been more gentle, in my delivery…”

“Wow, what a stunning apology,” Marinette drawled sarcastically. Adrien’s brow furrowed, and she noticed the slight hunch that suddenly bowed his back. Like he had been caught doing something wrong.

Though she didn’t want it to, the gesture softened her, and she let out a sigh.

“…But, not everything you said yesterday was unfair,” she made herself admit, her turn to look away now. “You were right: I don’t know you. I didn’t even know you in Dupont, really. I was just some stupid teenage girl…” She forced herself to meet his gaze, despite the blush thrumming under her skin. “…With a stupid, teenage crush on a boy I idolized. A boy I put on a pedestal, based on his surface alone.”

Adrien stared at her. It was hard to tell, what with the setting sun glowing in his face, but Marinette rather thought that he might be blushing…but no, that was impossible. Adrien Agreste wouldn’t blush over something so simple…

But then again, how would she know? That was part of the whole, original problem, wasn’t it?

“I can’t fix my mistakes from the past,” Marinette readily admitted. Talented though she might be, time-travel was not one of her powers. Standing her ground, she continued, “What I _can_ do is be better in the present. So…this is me, tearing down that old pedestal. This is me, wanting to start over.”

She managed a small smile.

“I’m still irked with you, but…still, because we’re going to be working closely together for the next seven months…I think it’d be better for us to start from scratch, person to person.”

Holding a breath, she lifted a hand for him to shake.

“Can we do that?” Marinette asked, voice quiet, eyes intent on him. “Start over?”

Adrien’s eyes glowed in the fading light of the sun as he leaned against his door, the light setting off the honey tints of his hair. He looked even more like an angel fallen to earth like this…but Marinette firmly smacked the idea from her mind. This was part of the problem—she shouldn’t look at Adrien like he was a god to be worshipped. He might be good-looking, but if anything was proven to her yesterday, it was that he was just as human as the rest of them, despite what his modeling might suggest.

Adrien Agreste, CEO and international supermodel…was human.

And it was high time Marinette realized that.

Adrien appeared to consider her, his pose unintentionally seductive. But Marinette held herself in check, refusing to break his gaze, not even as she saw his lips part, as if he was about to speak—

“Adrihoneeeey, where did you go??”

Marinette froze.

That voice—

“Adrien, what is it? Has the sushi been delivered yet or—oh.”

Marinette tore her gaze from Adrien, spotting the _other_ blonde rich kid from her class at Francois Dupont just a ways away. Her long hair was down her back, and she was wearing a shirt that was clearly too big for her—Adrien’s shirt. Her make-up was flawless as always, and her baby blue eyes blinked as she paused, spotting Marinette. She eyed Marinette up and down, a crease forming in between her brows.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she drawled, disdain creeping into her tone.

That’s it—no more blondes were allowed to use her full name. It was now an official rule.

“Chloe Bourgeois,” she replied, not bothering to hide her lack of enthusiasm.

Well well…despite the years, it seemed that Adrien and Chloe had only grown closer. _Much_ closer.

And yet, it was amazing just how much that didn’t bother Marinette. Really, a part of her, still stinging from yesterday, was convinced that they deserved each other.

Chloe’s lip twisted, as if it were an insult for Marinette to even speak her name.

“What is she doing here?” She asked of Adrien, the old tactic of pretending Marinette wasn’t there coming into effect. Marinette scoffed and rolled her eyes, so not in the mood for the childish antics. Even if Chloe couldn’t claim the same, _Marinette,_ at least, had grown up.

“Nothing. I was just leaving.” Turning on her heel, Marinette marched down the stairs, quite happy to get away from the two blonde, rich people in that house. She had better things to do than to be talked down to, anyway. And Adrien had never answered her question, so she was going to assume that he just wasn’t interested—

“See you later, Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

_Ugh._

“Stop that,” she turned with a snap, glaring at him. Chloe made an offended sound, as if Marinette was being abominably rude, and Adrien had his lips pressed together.

But…he didn’t look annoyed, like Chloe did. No, there was something else in his expression…something almost like…

“Stop what?” He dared to ask, and Marinette spotted it: that twitch at the corner of his lips. He was trying very, very hard not to smile.

Was he…playing with her, right now?

The thought only annoyed Marinette further.

“You know what, don’t play dumb. Stop calling me by my last names all the time.”

She turned to fully face him, hands on her hips, feet planted in the middle of his walkway.

“If you’re trying to be professional, fine, but leave it in the office. Outside of those industry walls, it’s _Marinette,_ damn it.”

Chloe gave another sputter, as if actually shocked by Marinette’s audacity. But Marinette couldn’t care less, her eyes fixed on Adrien, and Adrien alone.

After a moment, he smiled.

And, though it might’ve just been the glow from the setting sun, his eyes appeared to warm, too.

“Then I’ll see you later…Marinette,” he bade her farewell. There was just a hint of irony in his tone, and Marinette took it as a challenge, cocking her hip and flipping her hair in an exaggerated Chloe impression.

“Mr. Agreste,” she returned, spinning around and strutting out of his garden, missing the brief grin that flashed across Adrien’s face.

Adrien waited until she got in her car and pulled away before he closed the door, turning to contend with Chloe’s pout.

“Why was she here?” She whined, immediately clinging to Adrien’s arm. He gave a sigh and dislodged her, picking up the envelope he’d previously set down.

“For business,” he told her, moving past Chloe to head further into the house, feeling her trail behind him. “She’s in the senior class of a fashion collaboration my company is doing with IFA.”

“Hmph. Is she _still_ pursuing her doomed career in fashion? She’d be better off in her parent’s bakery, learning how to make wedding cakes for women who _actually_ have love lives—”

“Chloe,” Adrien cut her off, turning abruptly to face her. “What’re you doing in my shirt?”

She paused, blinking her blue eyes at him before she laughed in what she evidently thought was a charming manner.

“Oh, well, you know, I was looking for you in your room, and I missed you when I couldn’t find you. So I kind of just pulled your shirt on as, uh, a comfort, you know? Doesn’t it look good on me?” She struck a pose, one hand behind her head, one leg lifting up, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

Adrien did not so much as blink.

“The guest room you’re staying in is full of your spare clothes for a reason,” he reminded her, folding his arms as Chloe pouted at his lack of response. “And when are you going home anyway?”

“Never!” Chloe protested, her features warping in fury. “Daddy’s being _completely_ unreasonable!!”

“Just because he won’t buy you a new Mercedes?”

“It’s not the Mercedes, it’s the attitude! He’s supposed to be my _father_ , the man who takes care of me! Well, until I get married, that is…” She looked to Adrien again for a response, pouting once more when she didn’t get it.

“I think he takes care of you just fine. The reason he won’t buy you a new Mercedes is because you just wrecked the new one he bought you last week.” Adrien arched an eyebrow at the pouting girl before him. “Maybe you should be more careful with your toys.”

Chloe gave him a disgusted look and turned her back on him.

“Ugh! If you’re going to sit here and lecture me, maybe I _will_ go home.”

If she was hoping that would be some kind of devastating threat, she was about to be sorely disappointed.

“Make sure you go home in your own clothes, then,” Adrien said. With another disgusted huff, Chloe flounced away, stomping up the stairs and slamming the door to the guest bedroom. Hardly ruffled by her theatrics—because those days were long over—Adrien headed to his study, moving to the desk to drop the envelope Marinette had delivered, resolving to look at whatever Symone had sent him later, since he didn’t quite feel like working this evening. The best thing about being a CEO—he got to set his own hours.

Slumping down on the leather couch he had been occupying to avoid Chloe before the doorbell rang, Adrien focused on the window on the opposite wall, watching the color fade from the sky, giving way to night.

As they inevitably did, his thoughts strayed to Ladybug.

She was not happy with him—with Chat Noir—right now. Adrien supposed he couldn’t blame her: he had basically told her, to her face, to fuck off, and that he was going to be doing things his way from now on. And while a part of him was upset that he had to go against her, Adrien would not be deterred. He had already decided on his path—the hard part was over. Now, he just had to see it through. And he would. He refused to be deterred.

As he sat there, pondering—brooding—over Ladybug, Marinette suddenly invaded his mind. The way her blue eyes burned as she glared at him, stern and unyielding, was a look he had never seen on her before. At least, not aimed at him. And he didn’t hate it—rather, it sort of reminded him of Ladybug when she was facing down an enemy.

And Marinette had basically confirmed what Plagg had said—she had had a crush on him when they were in school together.

Explained her awkward shyness around him, he supposed, now that he thought about it. He had just always assumed that she was intimidated by him, possibly because of who his father was…but that wasn’t the kind of intimidation that was going on there, was it?

She had certainly grown out of it, in any case, even daring to tell him to shut up so she could scold him properly. No one talked like that to Adrien anymore: it was always “Yes, Mr. Agreste” or “Of course, Mr. Agreste,” or even “Right away, Mr. Agreste.” He rarely ever heard the word “no” anymore, so it was quite a shock for him, hearing someone tell him to shut his mouth. Especially someone whose fashion career might fall into his hands.

But career or not, one thing was clear: Miss Dupain-Cheng was clearly not a woman to be trifled with.

 _“It’s_ Marinette, _damn it.”_

Adrien chuckled under his breath. Very well— _Marinette_ was clearly not a woman to be trifled with.

The sky outside his window was losing the last of its fiery red color, which made Adrien’s thoughts return to Ladybug, wondering where she was, and what she was doing now…if she was thinking about Friday as much as he was.

‘ _Of course she’s not,_ ’ Adrien’s thoughts chided him as he sighed, laying his head on the armrest of his couch. ‘ _She’s a superhero, way out of your league. What would she want with you?_ ’

Adrien closed his eyes with a sigh. As Chat Noir, there could be no question that he had ruined his chances with Ladybug—not that he really had a chance with her to begin with.

But as Adrien…

As Adrien, he was still quite unworthy, he had to admit. But maybe…maybe she’d be able to talk with him, as Adrien. After all, she said that she regretted his father’s death—she didn’t want to kill him. Though he already knew this, somewhere deep down, to hear her say it was blessed relief. And now, he just had to wait until Friday, and hopefully, all his questions would be answered…

He felt his face split into a wide grin.

Friday couldn’t come fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten steps back as Ladybug and Chat Noir.
> 
> Two tentative steps forward as Marinette and Adrien.
> 
> We'll see how it plays out from here...
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	5. Enigma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the rate I'm going, this fic will be well over 200 pages before I even finish it. -_-
> 
> Bet you guys aren't complaining, though. XP
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

There was another thing Marinette wished she could have outgrown, aside from her pigtails—her damn near-crippling klutziness. Becoming Ladybug might have increased her luck, but it could only do so much for Marinette’s coordination, as proven when she tried to quietly slip into her track pants and ended up tripping on the hems and falling with a loud crash, which roused her sleeping kwami—something Marinette had been trying to avoid.

“Mm…Marinette?” Tikki inquired, rubbing sleep from her indigo eyes. “What are you doing? It’s six in the morning.”

“Sorry, Tikki,” Marinette apologized with a cringe. She carefully wiggled into her track pants this time, with more success. “I was just gonna go for a run.”

“Really?” Marinette would be more insulted by Tikki’s incredulous tone if her overwhelming track record of not being a morning person didn’t speak so loudly against her. “But…didn’t you go to bed late last night?”

Marinette cringed. Indeed, she went to bed at three last night—in a fit of pique, in fact, after her creativity refused to flow properly and give her some good ideas for her spring line. As a result, the floor around her workspace was littered with crumpled up sheets of paper…and Marinette was more than willing to let the failed creations take responsibility for her stumbling this morning.

“Yes,” she admitted with a sigh to Tikki, her body’s groan of exhaustion echoing the truth of her kwami’s words. “But I can’t afford to sleep in anymore. I need to get back in shape.”

Tikki’s eyes widened in realization.

“Oh…is this about yesterday?”

Yesterday. Marinette growled at the reminder—not only had she had to fight a tree-themed akuma, whose roots threatened to tear up the city and imprison her within the earth, but she had _also_ had to contend with Chat Noir and his new attitude of “kill the enemy to stop the akuma”. It had honestly been a nightmare, and, were it not for quick thinking on Ladybug’s part—a Lucky Charm gardening hoe that ended up clinching the battle, and a well-placed foot that had caused Chat to trip and use his Cataclysm on the possessed item by accident—either the akuma or Chat Noir would have succeeded…which meant they all would have lost much more than they could afford. The fact that she had only bested the both of them by the skin of her teeth bothered Marinette, and so she resolved that it was time to dust off and lace up her running shoes. This could not happen a second time.

“Paris is depending on me, Tikki,” Marinette said, slipping on her track jacket next before she tied her hair up into a ponytail. “I can’t afford to fail, so if it means running on three hours of sleep today, then so be it. I have to do this.”

Tikki smiled a little, zipping over next to Marinette.

“I’m glad to see you’re taking your responsibility so seriously…but I’m worried about you, too. Are you sure this is okay?”

“I’ve had worse,” Marinette reminded her kwami with a grin. “Remember that time I stayed up all night studying for a final all jazzed up on energy drinks?”

Tikki’s eyes widened at the reminder.

“Oh, that was scary. I was sure you were going to start bouncing off the walls!”

“Which is why you banned me from the stuff indefinitely,” Marinette teased, and Tikki gave a giggle. “I may need one later, though…”

“Well, all right, if it’ll help. But one only!” Said Tikki sternly as she followed Marinette down the stairs of her townhouse apartment. It was a modest place, this space Marinette had made for herself—mismatched furniture littered her living room, a combination of bargain hunting and assistance from Alya and Nino. Marinette’s favorite piece of furniture in the room was the lamp that sat in the corner, the shade a hot pink with fur trim that sparkled when the bulb within was turned on. The only luxury items in the room were a sleek gaming system hooked up to a sizable TV, for when Marinette was feeling a MechaStrike itch that just _had_ to be scratched. (When she could find the time to scratch it, anyway.)

Passing by the living room, Marinette headed for the kitchen, cringing at the week-old shopping list on the front of her fridge. She really had to make the time to go grocery shopping.

“I was thinking,” Tikki said as Marinette fished out her water bottle and began filling it with ice, “it would be a good idea for us to visit Master Fu soon.”

“Yeah,” Marinette agreed with a nod, turning on her faucet to fill the rest of her water bottle. “I was gonna go see him while on my run.”

“Without me?!” Tikki protested, flying into Marinette’s face with a big pout. Marinette cringed while simultaneously trying not to laugh at how cute her kwami was.

“Er, well, I didn’t want to wake you if you were sleeping…but, since you’re already up—”

“I’m _going,_ ” Tikki insisted, quite fiercely. Marinette sighed but shrugged, unzipping the breast pocket of her track suit and allowing Tikki to nestle in. After making sure she had her keys, Marinette left her apartment, carefully locking up after herself as always.

There was a fine mist in the air—the morning fog of fall settling in. It looked like it would lift soon, so Marinette didn’t bother herself about it, concerning herself instead with a couple warm-up stretches before she took off, relishing in the warmth that shot through and loosened the muscles of her legs as she ran. To be honest, she would rather be flying, but that would be just a _tad_ distracting, even if most of Paris was still asleep at this hour. Besides, it probably wasn’t advisable with all this fog around.

Slipping a hand into her pocket, Marinette retrieved her phone and earbuds, selecting her favorite Jagged Stone CD and putting it on loop as she ran. The sound of the guitar being shredded by her favorite artist electrified Marinette, pushing her to run faster, a grin on her face. Despite her lack of sleep, this run was energizing, and she commended herself for being responsible enough to make this decision on her own. Hmm…maybe she could squeeze in a visit to her parents’ bakery on the way back from Master Fu’s before she had to go back home and get ready for class.

As Marinette rounded the corner, nodding her head to the beat of her music, she didn’t notice the figure crossing the street towards her at a worrisome rate until it was too late, and they collided. With an ungraceful yelp and fall, Marinette was on the ground, her backside slammed into the concrete under her.

“Owww,” she groaned, tugging out an earbud and wincing. “What the hell?”

“Oh, sorry,” apologized a harried-sounding voice, and a tall figure leaned through the fog towards her. “I didn’t mean to—”

Marinette froze, her mouth coming open with a pop.

Green eyes blinked at her, seemingly as astonished as she was.

‘ _You have_ got _to_ _be kidding me._ ’

It was enough that she was dreading seeing this guy as Ladybug later tonight; did she _really_ have to run into him first thing in the morning, too?

Marinette inwardly groaned, straightening up as Adrien Agreste sat back, still blinking at her.

“Marinette,” he named her at last, and Marinette felt herself inexplicably flush.

‘ _What’re you blushing for? You’re the one that_ told _him to call you by your first name! Get it together, girl!_ ’

‘ _Shut up, Alya,_ ’ Marinette thought at the voice, sighing in defeat.

“Mr. Agreste,” she replied to him coolly, much like she did on Tuesday after she had left his place of residence. She got to her feet, brushing herself off and discreetly patting her breast pocket, just to make sure that Tikki was still there. The telltale lump assured her, and she was able to switch her focus to the too-tall model unfolding himself in front of her. She scowled as soon as his height cleared hers; did he _have_ to be so tall? Unfairness upon unfairness upon total bullshit.

“What’re you doing here?” Marinette asked, working to seem like the answer didn’t really matter to her as she removed her remaining earbud. “Don’t you live on the other side of town?”

To this, Adrien merely shrugged.

“I like jogging on this side of town,” he answered, the corners of his mouth twitching suspiciously. “And I see I’m not alone.”

“But unlike you, I actually live nearby,” Marinette told him, without really knowing why. Why should he care where she lived?

Adrien tilted his head to the side. His hair was carefully swept to the side, as always, but Marinette could tell some of it was pulled back into…was that a bun at the back of his head?

‘ _Oh no, THAT’S CUTE,_ ’ Marinette thought without really meaning to. She inwardly chided herself, nearly missing the bane of her existence’s next words.

“Still living with your parents, then?”

It was an honestly curious question…but Marinette bristled at the nonexistent insinuation anyway.

“Just because I live nearby doesn’t mean I’m still living with my parents,” she sniffed, and Adrien quirked a brow, his lips beginning to curve upwards.

“I was just asking. I like your parents,” he said, causing Marinette to blink at him. What did he mean, he liked her parents? He had met them once, seven years ago. How could he possibly claim to still like them after all this time?

The doubt must’ve been obvious on her face; Adrien grinned a little, like he wasn’t able to help it anymore.

“You don’t believe me?”

“It’s just funny how you claim to like them after only meeting them one time, years ago,” Marinette pointed out, folding her arms. “You didn’t even recognize _me_ at first when you saw me again.”

“Like I said, lack of pigtails,” Adrien defended himself with a shrug. “I figured it out a minute later, though. No reason to be bent out of shape about it, right?”

He was mocking her, Marinette knew it. Nose in the air, she stomped past him, praying with all her might that he would go on with his jog and leave her alone—

No such luck. He immediately fell into step beside her.

“Wow, you’re not happy to see me.” He sounded indecently amused by that. “Are you still upset about Monday?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” Marinette shot back, sticking one earbud back into her ear as she picked up the pace, hoping he would take the hint and disappear. In response, Adrien lengthened his stride. “You _were_ very rude to me. Why wouldn’t I still be mad?”

“What about the offer to start over?” Adrien reminded her, and Marinette cursed under her breath. “Is that still valid?”

“I don’t know. You didn’t say anything when I offered it.”

“You didn’t exactly give me a chance, Mari.”

Oh, so she was _Mari_ now, was she?

Marinette scowled, skidding to a stop about a block from Master Fu’s place. She turned to frown up at the model beside her, who was in a track suit, just like hers, though his was dark green and black to her pink and black. He gazed down at her, no longer smiling…but his expression was more open than Marinette had ever seen it. It confused her, and so she glanced down, scowling at the tiny little nudge in her mind that prompted her just to forgive him already.

‘ _Come on,_ look _at_ _him. How could you stay mad at that face?_ ’

That was her lingering attraction to his looks talking, and she stubbornly ignored it, turning her face back up to scowl at him.

“Just because I might want to start over doesn’t mean I can’t still be mad,” she told him sternly. Adrien glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah…I get that,” he assured her. He stuck both his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunching, as if he was trying to make himself seem smaller. “…And, in the spirit of starting over…I _am_ sorry about the way I spoke to you. I thought about it all week, and…you’re right. It was uncalled for.”

A tiny smile curved his lips now, giving him the look of the shy boy Marinette had once fallen hard and fast for. “Forgiven?”

Fourteen year old Marinette would have squealed and melted into a puddle right then and there, all negative thoughts revolving around Adrien Agreste disappearing on the spot.

Twenty one year old Marinette, however, had a lot more grit than that, and a hit to her pride that had yet to be truly recovered. So while she took note of the puppy eyes and filed the danger they posed away for later, she stood her ground.

“ _I’ll_ decide when I forgive you for being a jerk, thank you,” she told him firmly, and turned on her heel, continuing on her jog. To her mixed frustration and bemusement, Adrien continued to follow her.

“Yikes. Marinette Dupain-Cheng knows how to hold a grudge. Noted,” he said, amusement clear in his voice. Marinette refused to look at him, focusing on Master Fu’s massage parlor. It wasn’t open yet, but that hardly mattered—Master Fu would want to see her, no matter what time it was. But Marinette couldn’t just enter with Adrien tailing her—it would raise too many questions that she just wasn’t willing to answer. And so, with a stab of annoyance, she ran past Master Fu’s and continued down the street, improvising her plan: she’d stop by her parents’ bakery and see them, maybe grab a bite to eat, and then she’d double back to Master Fu’s before heading home. Her newly acquired shadow will hopefully have fucked off by then, if she was lucky…

Marinette was pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of Adrien softly singing to himself. With a jolt, she realized that he was singing along to the song she was listening to; her free earbud must be louder than she thought.

“…You still listen to Jagged Stone, hm?” She noted, pausing her music. Adrien’s singing died away with it, and he gave her an amused look.

“Of course. As do you,” he pointed out. “Other artists can come and go as they please, but give me ten more years of Jagged Stone and I’ll be happy.”

“They didn’t have good music in Milan?” Marinette asked, honestly curious. Adrien lifted and dropped a shoulder.

“Eh, it was all right. Lots of stuff you could dance to, but if you want to rock out? Jagged Stone’s the only answer.”

Marinette hummed noncommittedly. From her peripheral vision, she sized Adrien up, taking note of the easy breaths that passed through him; talking while jogging didn’t seem to wind him at all, which made sense, considering how obvious it was that he was in good shape— _no, Marinette, bad, focus._ His hair pulled back into a bun was indeed adorable, now that she was looking at his profile…but something about it reminded her of someone else—

Adrien glanced over and caught her staring. The corner of his mouth twitched again.

“Yes?” He asked, and Marinette tore her gaze from him, fresh irritation flashing through her, which explained the heat she could feel in her face. Yup, definitely due to irritation. Absolutely.

“Just wondering how long you plan on following me,” she grumbled.

“I always jog this way,” Adrien answered, and his lips twitched again at the snort of disbelief Marinette made. “It’s true. I like the smell of your parents’ bakery. It’s calming.”

Marinette quirked a brow at him as they drew closer to _Boulangerie Patisserie_. She supposed she knew what he meant about the smell—she could already catch whiffs of baking bread, and that was soothing to her in a different way: it was home. But as for why he should find it calming, Marinette had no idea.

“You just run by my parents’ bakery without buying anything?” She felt like teasingly scolding him. Adrien’s brow puckered at this.

“Well, it’s not like I wouldn’t like to…” He shifted a glance over to her, and Marinette was surprised to find that he actually looked _guilty._ She was about to tell him that she was just pulling his leg when he continued, “It’s just…bread’s not something I’m supposed to have…an excess of.”

Oh, right. Model.

Marinette frowned, slowing as they approached the front door of the bakery. She had never really thought about it before, but now that she was looking at him, Adrien _was_ pretty slim, despite the muscle mass he’d seemed to accumulate over the years. No doubt he had to be on a strict diet to keep his trim, model figure intact…but jeez, a life without _bread?_ How sad.

Abruptly feeling sorry for him, Marinette stopped, her hand touching the handle of the bakery.

“Come on. Let’s stop for a croissant. I don’t know about you, but I skipped breakfast, and I’m starving.”

Adrien stopped too, glancing to and away from the bakery quickly, like he was peering at something he really shouldn’t be looking at. His model smile suddenly appeared, making Marinette raise her eyebrows.

“That’s okay. I’ll eat when I get back. I really shouldn’t…” He paused as Marinette opened the door a crack, and the smell of fresh bread swirled around them. The smell seemed to stun him; he blinked a couple times, breathing deeply. It looked like he was having a hard time not openly salivating; Marinette bit her lip to keep from giggling.

“One croissant won’t hurt you,” she pointed out, a smile curving her lips as she rested against the door frame, keeping the door propped open with the toe of her tennis shoe. Adrien inhaled some more, his eyes closing momentarily. He opened them again a moment later, sending her a frown.

“Ah…I get it. You’re trying to ruin me, aren’t you?” He gave her a tight smile. “Revenge for my being rude to you on Monday?”

Marinette scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“No one’s trying to fatten you up, Mr. Model,” she chided him, nudging the door open wider so that the bell tinkled. “Like I said, one croissant won’t kill you…but if you’d rather do without…”

She let the door fall slowly closed behind her, a challenging look in her eyes as she kept Adrien’s gaze. To her great amusement, he looked extremely conflicted, as if she was offering him forbidden fruit that he _knew_ he wasn’t allowed to touch. But just as the door was about to shut all the way, his hand caught the knob, and he ducked in after her, shoulders hunching again, like he was skulking. Marinette didn’t bother to stifle her giggling this time around.

“Excuse me, we’re not quite open yet—oh, Marinette!”

Marinette turned with a smile to the short woman that had just emerged from behind the counter, wiping her hands on her baker’s apron. Her dark hair held a gray streak or two, but her gray eyes were still kind, and it was with much warmth that she embraced her daughter.

“Hi, Mama,” Marinette greeted, smiling down at her mother, whom she only dwarfed by a couple centimeters.

“This is a surprise,” Sabine remarked, looking quite pleased. “Tom, look who’s here! It’s Marinette and—oh!”

Oh, right. Marinette glanced over her shoulder, spotting Adrien still hovering by the door, hands buried in his pockets. When he noticed both women looking at him, he smiled his model smile and raised a hand to wave. He looked natural enough, Marinette supposed…but there was something awkward about the set of his shoulders that she just barely noticed.

“Good morning, Mrs. Cheng,” he greeted politely enough.

“Sabine, honey, please,” Sabine corrected him, waving him forward. Adrien obliged, sliding a sideways glance Marinette’s way that she didn’t quite understand. “I _told_ Tom that was you running by our bakery in the mornings, but he didn’t believe me. Said you would be working out indoors in a gym somewhere rather than be out and about where you might be mobbed by fans. Just goes to show,” she said, turning to wink at Marinette, “Mama knows best.”

“I suppose I owe you that thirty euro after all, then,” said Tom’s voice before the man himself appeared, as large as ever, his kind face slightly obscured by his mutton chops and bushy mustache. He was carrying a tray of freshly baked bread, and he eased around the counter with it, smiling at Marinette and Adrien. “Good morning, kids.”

“Morning, Papa,” Marinette chirped, accepting the kiss Tom pressed to her cheek after he set the bread tray upon its proper rack to cool.

“What’re you two up to so early?” Sabine wondered, smiling at the pair of them. “It’s rare to see you at this time at all, Marinette.”

Adrien coughed slightly, the back of his hand resting against his mouth. But Marinette wasn’t fooled; she knew he was laughing, and she scowled at him for it.

“I decided a jog would be good for me this morning,” she stated with as much grace as she could, her nose in the air. “And then Adrien ran into me. Literally.”

“It was an accident, and I apologized,” Adrien returned calmly. “No need to hold a grudge.”

Marinette made a face at him before turning to her parents, who shared a knowing look that made her frown in confusion.

“Anyway, we’re just here for a couple croissants. Do you have any of the chocolate-filled kind left?”

“Of course,” Tom huffed, blustering in a teasing fashion as he picked up a paper bag and a pair of tongs. “What kind of bakery do you think we’re running here?”

“The best kind,” Marinette returned, grabbing another pair of tongs and dropping things into the bag her father already held. Behind her, she heard her mother strike up a conversation with Adrien.

“It’s nice to see you again, honey. Are you going to be settling down in Paris?”

“That’s the plan for now,” Adrien replied, and Marinette could practically see his professional face in place. “We’ll see how business goes, but for right now, Paris is where I’ll be.”

“That’s good.” Sabine’s voice warmed. “I’m so happy to see how well you’re doing. We were worried for a while, you know. I think Marinette cried for a _week_ after you left—”

“Mama!” Marinette protested, her face turning crimson as she turned to gape at her mother in shock. Sabine touched her lips with a hand, looking as if she was trying to hide a smile.

“Oh. Sorry, sweetie,” she apologized, but the damage was already done, if the twitching lips on Adrien was any indication. Abruptly, Marinette was regretting her decision to bring him into the bakery.

“Here,” she huffed, pushing the bag of pastries onto Adrien. The sooner they left, the better.

“Oh. Thanks.” He shifted the bag into one arm, reaching into his pocket and drawing out something black and leather—his wallet. At the sight of it, however, Sabine shook her head.

“No, honey, go ahead and take the bag. On the house,” she insisted, Tom moving to her side and nodding his agreement. Marinette watched as Adrien blinked, staring at her parents. It was clear that he had trouble with the concept of “free”.

“But—” he began, lifting his wallet, but Sabine gripped his forearm and firmly lowered his hand.

“No charge. You look like you don’t eat _nearly_ enough.”

“Besides, half of that is Marinette’s,” Tom said knowingly, “and we’d feel terrible charging you for her share. She’s a _bottomless pit._ ”

“Papa!” Marinette protested, her annoyance growing when her parents tittered at her outrage. But it was the soft snort from Adrien that was the final straw, and Marinette turned an about-face, stomping towards the door. “Okay, we’re leaving, right now.”

“I’d actually like to stay and chat with your parents more—” Adrien said, sounding like he was trying not to laugh again.

“They’re _very busy,_ ” Marinette snarled, coming back for Adrien and pushing against his back. He seemed startled by her strength, and his surprise allowed him to be shunted from the shop.

“Er, bye, Mr. Dupain! Bye, Sabine!”

“Tom’s fine, son,” Tom called after them with an amused look.

“Come by anytime!” Sabine invited, waving merrily. It wasn’t until they were a block away that Marinette stopped pushing Adrien, and she slumped forward, though this exhaustion was mental rather than physical. Adrien’s soft laughter made her glance up, scowling at him. His face was deceptively straight as he met her eyes…but mischief was alight in his gaze. Before Marinette could decide just how thoroughly she wanted to curse him out, he lifted the pastry bag like a peace offering.

“Shall we?”

Her stomach rumbled in reaction, and Adrien snickered, muffling the sound with a hand as Marinette glared at him, red-faced. She snatched the bag from him and walked resolutely to the nearest bench, her morning already off to a terrible start. And it wasn’t even seven yet. Ugh.

“Nice to see that your parents haven’t changed much,” Adrien said as he sat down on the bench next to her, a careful distance away, something that Marinette appreciated. She deliberated a moment, and then allowed the pastry bag to settle in between them, swiping the first pastry she could and taking a bite. It was still warm, and the taste of chocolate and butter was heavenly.

“I guess,” she mumbled through her mouthful, watching Adrien delicately pick through the bag for his promised croissant. “Still as invasive as ever…but they’re good people.”

Adrien took a bite out of his own croissant, chewing for just a second before he released a noise so satisfied that it brought a blush to Marinette’s face.

“Your father’s baking is still _amazing,_ ” he moaned, taking another bite and producing the same result. Marinette giggled, unable to help herself.

“Okay, calm down there,” she urged him with a slight shake of her head. “It’s food, not sex.”

“You’re right—it’s _better_ than sex,” Adrien practically purred, and Marinette’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline.

“You must’ve had some pretty disappointing partners if you believe that,” she commented idly. Adrien glanced at her from the corner of his eye, but said nothing else, continuing to eat his croissant. The slight suggestion in his expression left Marinette a little warmer than she liked, and she cast around for a subject change.

“You’re a bit different outside of your office, huh?” She couldn’t help but remark. It was hard to miss, after all: after being subjected to his all-business tone on more than one occasion, to see this side of Adrien—more human than she had ever seen him—Marinette had to admit that the change sort of gave her whiplash.

Adrien had finished his croissant and was rooting around in the bag for another one, briefly glancing up at the observation.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Marinette persisted, looking amused as Adrien stared down at his second croissant, a battle of wills seemingly raging in his mind. “That when you’re not all business, you’re actually…more relaxed. More free with yourself, I guess.”

Adrien paused, his gaze cutting to her once more. The air changed, and suddenly, Marinette felt as if she had said the wrong thing. The feeling grew stronger when, after a stiff minute, Adrien slowly replaced the chocolate-filled croissant in the bag.

“Hmm,” he hummed, but that was all. Marinette watched as his posture visibly straightened, an ankle crossed over his knee, his arms draped over the back of the bench. Posing again. She wanted to roll her eyes.

“…That’s not a bad thing, you know,” she remarked, just a hint of dryness in her tone. Adrien’s gaze was far away; as she watched, it tightened.

“It’s not a good thing, either,” he muttered quietly; he seemed to be talking to himself. Marinette frowned now, pulling the chocolate croissant he had replaced back out of the bag and offering it to him again.

“Why not?” She asked, genuinely curious. What was so wrong with him cutting loose every now and then?

Adrien glanced down at the croissant, and then turned his head away, as if avoiding temptation.

“I should be more careful,” he said in that same quiet tone, making Marinette wonder if he was even really talking to her, despite answering her question. “I’m running a company I had to start from scratch. I have an image to uphold.”

He sounded so stiff when saying it that Marinette’s frown grew more pronounced.

“Haven’t you had enough of ‘image’?” She questioned him, irritated when he wouldn’t look at her. “Weren’t you the one who told me your father expected you to act a certain way all the time just because of who _he_ was? Aren’t you sick of the pretense?”

Adrien closed his eyes and let out a short huff. Marinette wondered if she was irritating him. If she was…she was supremely unconcerned about it.

“It’s different,” he said shortly.

“How?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

Finally, Adrien looked at her. His frown was one of annoyance.

“You’re stubborn.”

“You’re evasive,” Marinette shot back. They had a stare-down for a few precious seconds before Adrien looked away first. The way his lips were set suggested that he would be saying no more on the subject. Marinette huffed and got to her feet.

“You know what? Fine. Don’t tell me.” She picked up the bag of pastries, dropping the chocolate croissant she still held into his lap. “But just so you know, my offer to start over depends on you. If you’re not willing to be yourself, even when you’re not working, I don’t see how you expect to make any real friends.”

Adrien flinched, as if Marinette had slapped him. She sighed at the look.

“Just think about it,” she told him in a much softer tone, offering a small smile when he dared to look up at her. “I’ll see you around, Adrien.”

Adrien said nothing. Rather than wait for a response, Marinette nodded her head to him, resuming her jog in the opposite direction, carefully clutching the pastry bag to her. The bulge in her breast pocket wiggled impatiently, and Marinette patted it, mentally promising that she would feed Tikki once they reached Master Fu’s. At the corner, just before she turned, she allowed herself a tiny peek over her shoulder.

Adrien was still sitting on the bench. She watched as he lifted the croissant she’d left for him up to his face. One more second of seeming deliberation, and he took a bite, appearing to chew thoughtfully. Marinette smiled a small smile before she turned, sprinting to Master Fu’s.

 

* * *

 

Though her parents were definitely aging visibly, Master Fu gave no sign of being any different than when Marinette had first met him; despite the fact that he was now pushing a hundred and ninety-three, he appeared as if he could just as easily be Marinette’s uncle.

After serving them tea and accepting a couple pastries from Marinette, he listened quietly as she recounted her recent Ladybug experiences, merely stroking his beard and staring thoughtfully into space. She hoped that whatever he was thinking would help lead her to a solution she had yet to come to herself.

“…and I still have no idea what this new Hawk Moth copycat wants,” Marinette was saying after she’d finished her second cup of tea. She allowed Master Fu to pour her a third one as she continued, “It could be that he’s still after the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous, but since his akumas have kind of just wreaked havoc on Paris with nothing but their own goals in mind, I can’t be sure. But that makes him even _more_ dangerous, I think, and with Chat Noir becoming…well, villain doesn’t quite fit…an anti-hero? Well, anyway, he’s basically turned his back on me and has got it in his head that _killing_ the akumatized victims is the right way to cure them, and I don’t know what to do or if I can make him change his mind, this whole thing is just one big mess and—”

Master Fu raised his hand, and Marinette gratefully fell silent, eager for someone else to agonize over this problem now, because she was fresh out of ideas and being spread way too thin for her liking. Master Fu stroked his beard a minute more before his gaze focused on Marinette, and she leaned forward, waiting with baited breath.

“I am afraid,” Master Fu began, looking more troubled than Marinette had ever seen him, “that there is not much you can do about either situation, Ladybug.”

Marinette felt herself deflate.

“There’s… _nothing_ I can do?” She protested weakly, staring hopelessly at Master Fu. He bowed his head, and Marinette felt crushing finality weigh her down.

“Until we know the motives of this new Hawk Moth, we cannot begin to guess at their intentions,” Master Fu stated, “so making preemptive moves on an unknown enemy would be quite foolish.”

“And Chat Noir?”

Here Master Fu paused, stroking his beard once more.

“It seems…he is at a crossroads,” he said mysteriously, and Marinette worked to suppress a groan. “Blinded by his own goals, he seeks his own solution, one that does not depend on you.”

Marinette scowled at this.

“But why? Nothing was wrong with our partnership in the past!”

“As far as you know, Marinette,” Tikki piped up from where she and Wayzz were sharing a pastry, her pixie features anxious. “But we don’t really know what Chat Noir went through in the seven years that he was absent. Something about him must have changed.”

Marinette growled under her breath. She realized that he was different now—much too different—but she was still unable to comprehend just what could cause someone to change so _drastically_. What in the world happened to Chat Noir in the seven years that he was out of her sight?

“Incidentally,” Master Fu spoke, fixing Marinette with a searching gaze, “his loss of the Butterfly Miraculous is very concerning.”

“Do you think he was lying?” Marinette forced herself to ask. More news of Chat Noir’s treachery would not please her, but even so, she had to know…

Master Fu shook his head, and relief washed over Marinette.

“No, I do not think he was lying. As a matter of fact, on the day in question, when I returned here, I felt traces of dark magic around the place. I did not know what it meant—the traces were too faint for me to make much of them—but hearing his side of the story, I can only assume that whatever dark force invaded here was searching for the Miraculous that I guard.”

His eyes found the old-looking gramophone in the room. Marinette glanced over as well, remembering dimly the first look she had gotten at the well-hidden Miraculous that Master Fu guarded, even to this day. When she last saw the box, only two Miraculous remained nestled inside—a bee comb, whose kwami she had never met, and a fox tail, its image eerily similar to the one Lila tried to pass off as an actual Miraculous, once upon a time. The other slots were empty: the slot for the Butterfly Miraculous, the slot for the Turtle Miraculous, still owned by Master Fu, and an empty slot for some kind of bird Miraculous that Marinette had never seen. And in the center of a yin-yang symbol were the empty slots for the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous; two halves of the same whole. Or, that was how it was supposed to work, anyway…

Marinette sighed. Though she and Tikki worked better together than ever, she had to admit that she still did not quite comprehend the ancient magic that bound the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous together. All she could register, really, was a deep ache within her at the loss of Chat Noir as her partner…but whether it was due to the Miraculous or her own personal feelings of betrayal, Marinette could not be sure.

“So,” she began, hands gripping her tea cup tightly as she stared at Master Fu, “if we can’t do anything about Hawk Moth or Chat Noir right now…what _can_ we do?”

She knew the answer before it even left Master Fu’s mouth.

“We wait,” he stated, and Marinette couldn’t help the sigh that deflated her.

“I was afraid you’d say that,” she said grimly. Her eyes found her watch, and with a yelp, she surged to her feet. “I’d better get back home or I’ll be late for class.”

“And I have a client coming in a few minutes. Best get set up.” With a grunt, Master Fu was on his feet, taking Marinette’s tea cup from her. “Well, thank you for the update, Ladybug. Should you need me again, you know where to find me.”

“Of course.” Marinette bowed to Master Fu, beckoned to Tikki, and was nearly out the door before a sudden thought struck her, and she hastened back in. “Oh! Uh, there’s, um, something else, actually…”

Master Fu looked at her inquiringly, and Marinette felt red coat her cheeks. She took a deep breath in an attempt to alleviate some of the tension.

“Tonight,” she began, fiddling with the zipper of her track suit, “I, uh, sort of told…Adrien Agreste…that I’d meet with him. As Ladybug.” Marinette bit her lip, peering up at Master Fu. “Do you…think I should?”

Master Fu’s eyes were bright with interest, the stroking of his beard resuming.

“What you do in your personal time is not up to me, Ladybug,” he remarked, wise eyes dancing with laughter. Marinette felt her face explode with heat.

“N-no, no, it’s nothing like that!” Marinette hurried to protest, dimly aware that she was only making it worse, if the look on Master Fu’s face was any indication. She ceased her flailing and cleared her throat, trying for a modicum of dignity she did not currently possess. “I just mean…I think he wants to question me. About…Hawk Moth.”

“I see.” Master Fu appeared to inspect her for a moment. “And…you don’t know what to tell him?”

Marinette frowned, worrying her bottom lip again with her teeth.

“It’s not that…more like…I’m afraid he’s going to…well, blame me, I guess. Not that he doesn’t have the right to, it’s just…” She lowered her gaze to her socked feet, having taken off her tennis shoes when she came in. “…I don’t want him to hate me,” she admitted in a small voice.

And this was Ladybug talking, not Marinette—personal feelings aside, Ladybug didn’t want to do her duty, knowing that one of her citizens harbored a grudge against her for murdering his father. While it was true that she was responsible, to actually hear Adrien Agreste say the words “I hate you” would be more devastating now than they would’ve been when she had a crush on him. And with Chat Noir running wild with his insane ideas of right and wrong and justice, Ladybug had to be embodiment of goodness now more than ever.

But how could she possibly keep that image under the accusing stare of Adrien Agreste?

Master Fu was silent, simply watching her. After a moment, a finger twirled through his beard once more.

“I am sure you are tired of old sage advice at this point,” he stated rather shrewdly, and Marinette grinned guiltily. “I have advised you for years, Ladybug. I have watched you grow into the amazing young woman I see before me, and I must say that I trust your judgement completely. So, rather than filling your ears with sentiments like “just be yourself” or “follow your heart”…I will say nothing. You are more than capable of handling this on your own, Ladybug. And so you shall.”

Something warm thrummed inside Marinette. Though a part of her floundered, almost feeling like she was being thrown to the sharks, a larger part of her recognized that this was not Master Fu abandoning her. Rather, it was much like a mother bird pushing her babies out of the nest, with the implicit trust that instincts would take over, and they would spread their wings and take flight for the first time.

Rather than allow her to stay cooped up in the nest, Master Fu was encouraging her to fly on her own. Because he believed, completely and unconditionally, that she possessed the power to do so.

Marinette smiled wide, and Master Fu returned the gesture; though it was a smaller smile, the warmth was the same.

“Thank you, Master Fu,” she said, bidding him goodbye once more before exiting the massage parlor, nodding to the client that moved past her to enter.

Master Fu was right—she _was_ tired of sage advice. And while he couldn’t give her all the answers she sought today, he had done her one better and gave her courage.

Whatever happened tonight, Ladybug would deal with it.

Because she was Ladybug—she could do anything. So Marinette would let Ladybug deal with it when the time came.

For now, Marinette just had to worry about being Marinette for the day.

 

* * *

 

Green eyes searched the star-strewn sky, intent on the velvety blackness of night. He searched for a hint of spots, a flash of red, a pair of fierce blue eyes that lit his very soul on fire—

But there was nothing.

No red.

No spots.

No Ladybug.

Adrien sighed heavily. She wasn’t coming, was she? He was trying to stay optimistic, really, but the later the night wore on, the more convinced he was becoming that she wouldn’t show up.

Plagg certainly didn’t help matters.

“It’s an hour later than what you agreed,” bragged the cat kwami, his green eyes glittering maliciously as he floated up to Adrien’s face. “Looks like you’ve been stood up, Lover Boy.”

Adrien’s shoulders stiffened stubbornly under the dress shirt he had carefully selected for tonight.

“She could still be coming. Maybe she had something else to deal with.”

“Or maybe she changed her mind,” Plagg suggested. Adrien turned to glare at his kwami.

“Do you _have_ to antagonize me when I’m nothing but a ball of nerves right now? Besides, I thought I told you to hide. If Ladybug sees you—”

“I’m hungry,” Plagg interrupted, matching Adrien’s look of disdain perfectly. “How can you expect me to behave when my stomach’s rumbling so noisily? At this rate, Ladybug—if she ever shows up—will discover me just by the sound of my poor, starving belly.”

Adrien huffed, clutching the bridge of his nose. There was just no winning with Plagg, was there? Curse his rotten luck…

“Fine,” he bit out, walking stiffly past the tiny table he had set up with food, wine, and candlelight. Looking at it embarrassed him, and so he averted his eyes as he headed back inside, Plagg floating after him. Really, what was he expecting? That Ladybug would show up and agree to this impromptu date? She didn’t know him from Adam.

And, at the rate the night was going, she wouldn’t even be showing up anyway.

Adrien sighed as he dug into his camembert reserves for Plagg. It had been a stupid idea, foolish to even consider trying to woo Ladybug as Adrien Agreste. She was a superhero, a goddess, even. Why on earth would she ever agree to be with him?

‘ _Then why did she agree to see me?_ ’ Persisted an unbelievably stubborn and hopeful part of Adrien. He merely rolled his eyes at himself a second later. She probably agreed because she thought he wanted to talk about his dad. Talk about a mood killer. Adrien already knew she regretted what happened to his father; she had confided as much to Chat Noir. But then, seeing as how she didn’t know he was Chat Noir, it would be a bit suspicious if he didn’t ask _some_ things about his father, wouldn’t it?

‘ _Moot point,_ ’ Adrien reminded himself bitterly, leaving his glutton kwami to pig out in the kitchen. ‘ _No use in even worrying about this if she’s not gonna show—_ ’

Adrien stepped back into his room and nearly choked in surprise.

A striking figure in red and black stood poised on the railing of his balcony, blue eyes wide as she took in the date setting. Nearly tripping over himself in his haste, Adrien rushed to the door across the room from him and flung it open.

“Ladybug!” He sputtered breathlessly, her name inspiring a million tendrils of longing to unfurl within Adrien; they ached to wrap Ladybug in his embrace, to whisper a thousand words of devotion as he drew her in and never let her go—

‘ _Cool it. You’ll only scare her,_ ’ the side of him linked to Chat Noir said, urging him to keep his head. He cleared his throat and straightened up, though it became harder for him not to lose his nerve the moment her eyes met his.

Her hair was longer than he had ever seen it, branching out in the two pigtails she wore, the tips of her hair brushing her shoulders. She had grown taller as well, her suit more form-fitting than ever, hugging every curve she possessed, drawing his gaze to the swoop of her hips, the swell of her chest, before he sternly wrenched his eyes to her face. Despite other changes, her blue eyes burned with the same fire as before, and it momentarily left Adrien speechless as he stared at her. Tentatively, while he could only gawk, she smiled.

“Hello, Adrien. Sorry I’m late.” She carefully jumped down onto the balcony itself, her gaze flickering to the date table. “…Am I interrupting?”

“No!” Adrien said too loudly, hating himself as his voice threatened to break. He scraped around for the confidence he had to drag himself through fire and brimstone for, gritting his teeth and hating the way he was outside his suit. He wasn’t fifteen anymore, damn it. Why did she still manage to make him falter just from a glance? Clearing his throat and straightening his spine, he tried again. “I…I just set this out in case you might be hungry. Crime-fighting must be draining, after all.”

Ladybug blinked her blue eyes at him, tilting her head to the side. The moonlight reflected off her raven locks, her hair nearly blending in with the night. Even just standing there, she was a vision…and Adrien was struck once again by how thoroughly _fucked_ he was.

“Oh. That’s sweet of you,” she smiled, and Adrien felt his heart begin to beat violently against his ribcage, as if it longed to break free and physically place itself in her hands, just to illustrate how very much he was hers.

‘ _Get a grip,_ ’ Chat Noir’s voice reminded him lazily. ‘ _She’s just a person, just like everyone else._ ’

‘ _No,_ ’ Adrien thought back stubbornly, bidding his alter ego be quiet. Though he felt foolish, he didn’t think his worship was uncalled for. After all, Ladybug was much more than human. Always had been.

“Would you like to sit down?” Adrien invited, only blushing a little as he gestured towards the obviously romantic set-up. Ladybug eyed the table, pursing her lips.

“Actually…while this looks nice…I’d just rather make this quick.”

“Oh.”

Well, now he felt stupid. He gave a shrug, as if it didn’t really bother him whether or not she agreed to have dinner with him, and hastened to blow out the candles he’d lit. An awkward silence followed.

“So…” Ladybug began, shifting her weight from foot to foot, looking at anything but him. “You wanted to talk?”

“Yes,” Adrien decided, squaring his shoulders. Okay, he could do this…the dinner had been a little much, but he could probably still pull this off…

Ladybug’s gaze flashed to him. Her blue eyes tightened under her mask.

“Adrien,” she began before he could think of anything else to say, and the brittleness of her voice _hurt_ him, “I’m so sorry. Your father…I never meant—”

“It’s okay,” Adrien said hurriedly, raising his hands. “I know it was an accident. I, uh, saw the press conference you gave after…after it happened.”

Ladybug clutched at her elbows, closing her eyes with a heavy sigh.

“It couldn’t have been easy, having to hear from the police what happened…who your father turned out to be.” Her eyes peeked open, glancing at him from under her lashes. “I should’ve been the one to tell you. I’m so sorry.”

Suddenly, Adrien was fifteen years old again, scaling the wall outside his bedroom. He’d managed to slip into his room, de-transform, and vault into his bed just as Nathalie came in, flanked by two police officers. Her expression, usually so composed, had been nothing but a mask of shock; she had only stood there, tight-lipped as the police had explained to Adrien why his father would not be coming home, and he had had to pretend that it was all news to him, that he hadn’t seen the costume ripped from his father’s broken body, like he hadn’t been there to hear his final, empty words, like he hadn’t seen the life vanish from him the minute Gabriel Agreste had tried to reach for him—

Adrien shook off the bad memories, swallowing against the lump in his throat. It was over. Seven years had passed. He had moved on.

“It’s okay,” he made himself choke out, forcing his voice to be as normal as he could manage. “It was better this way. I’m glad you weren’t the one that had to tell me.”

Because to look at her face then as he was looking at it now…if she had made that face at him in the past, when the wound was still so fresh, Adrien was certain he would have broken down right then and there.

Ladybug lifted her chin then, her gaze stiff, as if she was resigning herself for the worst.

“You’re…angry with me, aren’t you?”

Angry. _Ha._ That was a good one. As complicated as his feelings were towards the spotted superhero as of late, ‘angry’ was not one of them.

“I’m not angry,” he assured her. Ladybug stared at him, her gaze searching his face.

“Not even a little bit?” She wanted to check. She was so adorable that Adrien had to smile.

“Not even a tiny bit,” he said, taking a step towards her, and then another, until he was suddenly there, right in front of her. “I could never be angry with you, Ladybug.”

She blinked up at him; it was clear that she did not comprehend.

“But…I was responsible for your father’s death,” she pointed out, as if he needed a reminder. “I…I killed him, Adrien.”

“It was an accident. You said so yourself.”

“That doesn’t change what happened,” Ladybug asserted with a shake of her head, and it hurt Adrien to see that something like this, someone like his _father_ , was still hurting her. “He was still your father.”

Adrien felt his expression twist as he briefly succumbed to the darkness within himself.

“He hadn’t been my father for a long time before I found out he was Hawk Moth,” Adrien growled. He barely registered the widening of Ladybug’s eyes, but it was enough for him to clear his throat and remind himself not to lose it. “Let’s not talk about him anymore, all right?” He requested in a much more civil tone. Ladybug blinked, inspecting him for a long moment.

“…All right,” she agreed in the end, taking a step back. “If you’re sure. I don’t want to end this conversation without you gaining some type of closure—”

“Already done,” Adrien insisted, “I saw a therapist about it years ago. I’m good.”

Ladybug gave a quiet nod, taking another step back.

“Okay. Well…I’m glad we talked, then.”

Adrien paused, stunned as she hopped up onto the balcony railing again, as if she meant to leave. She couldn’t go now—she had just gotten here!

“Wait!” He bade her, rushing forward, even as she straightened up, hand idling on the yo-yo hanging from her hip. She peered down at him curiously, apparently confused by his sudden anxious tone.

“What is it?” She glanced around, as if she expected to see an akuma, but there was no demon possession going around here, save for the (whatever he told Plagg to the contrary) obsession blazing within Adrien, filling nearly every night he lay awake in his bed with thoughts of her, and her alone. He swallowed, reminding himself that he could do this. He was a grown man, and she was…miraculous…but he could still do this.

Or he could try, anyway. And he had to try, or he was quite certain that he would finally take a nose dive off the deep end, as he had been threatening to do for so long when it came to all thoughts Ladybug.

“Ladybug, I…I don’t want you to go,” he admitted, a hand outstretched, as if he meant to touch her…but then he thought better of it and dropped the hand to his side, though his anxious gaze never left her face. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for so long…”

Ladybug peered down at him, tilting her head to the side.

“…We did talk,” she pointed out, slowly crouching down so that she was eye level with Adrien. His heart thudded and stuttered in his chest at her closeness, and he swallowed.

“Yes, but not about anything I wanted to talk about,” he persisted, daring to step closer, so that they were mere centimeters away. “There’s something you should know. Something I’ve been dying to say since I was fifteen, and I first saw you…”

Ladybug said nothing, merely gazing at him curiously, perfection even in the swoop of her eyelashes as they brushed against her spotted mask when she blinked. She was everything he wanted, and everything he didn’t deserve, but if he didn’t try, if he didn’t say something now, after nearly _eight years_ of dreaming and wishing and pining and worshipping—

“I…I think you’re amazing, Ladybug. You’re so brave and heroic, and you never hesitate to save Paris, despite the fact that it can’t be easy, doing what you do. I just admire you so much…so much, that I…I…”

‘ _Just say it!_ ’ His mind cried out, years and years of pent-up feelings nearly bursting from him, ‘ _Spit it out or forever hold your peace, because you’ll probably never get this chance again!_ ’

Adrien squared his shoulders, swallowed against his sudden sandpaper tongue, and met Ladybug’s gaze head-on.

“…I love you, Ladybug.”

There. It was out. He’d said it.

Years of hopeless pining like a lovesick kitten, all condensed in four simple, terrifying words.

And, as the look on Ladybug’s face changed drastically, Adrien was abruptly aware that he was not alone in his fear.

Ladybug nearly rocketed to her full height, and Adrien lunged forward as she wobbled, but she skipped out of the way, out of the helping hand he stretched towards her. Her mouth had come open, plump lips framing a horrified, yet silent ‘o’. Her bluebell eyes were wide in her face, her chest abruptly heaving, as if he was transforming into an akuma right before her eyes.

Hell, maybe he was, with how terrible he was suddenly feeling.

“Ladybug—” He called weakly, a hand outstretched, desperate.

Ladybug ripped her gaze from his, turning her back on him.

He felt his heart shatter, caving in on itself, the damage unmanageable, irreparable.

“I have to go,” she said, her voice suddenly hollow. With a flash of her yo-yo, she was gone. And Adrien was left in the aftermath, staring after her, the ache within him growing by the minute suggesting that it would have been better if he had just kept his feelings to himself.

‘ _Well, what did you expect?_ ’ Chat Noir muttered in his mind, though Adrien could feel that even he was downed by this turn of events, ears and tail drooping. ‘ _Like you said, she’s_ Ladybug. _And you’re just Adrien Agreste. What the hell could she ever want with someone like you?_ ’

It was true. Adrien had known it all along. But his attempts to dissuade himself from his set course of action were feeble, overwhelmed by the need to be with her, in any way he could, in whatever form she was willing to accept of him.

But that had been foolish.

Ladybug didn’t want Adrien Agreste. She didn’t _know_ him. Her abrupt departure had made that perfectly clear. Even in the past, when she and Chat Noir were still partners, her dismissal of his feelings had been gentle, playful…its very own brand of cruelty. But that was just their dynamic—she ran and he gave chase, a friendly game of Cat and…Bug, he supposed. And it had been enough, Chat reasoning to himself that she could do much better than some mangy stray.

But to just outright leave after Adrien Agreste dared to lay himself bare before her…

Did that mean that Ladybug, had he not been behaving so deplorable towards her as of late, would prefer Chat Noir more? She had never outright left _him_ standing somewhere after speaking words of adoration towards her.

Did that mean that Ladybug preferred _Chat Noir_ to _him_?

‘ _It doesn’t mean anything,_ ’ Chat chided him within his own mind. ‘ _She never knew how serious I was about her. I never did what you just did, never outright confessed to her. Besides, she_ knew _me: we were partners. It’s different._ ’

It was different. Chat Noir had been Ladybug’s partner. Their trust in each other had been implicit, so naturally, she would tolerate him more…

Until, almost in a blind jealous rage, Adrien destroyed Chat Noir’s image before his Lady’s very eyes.

‘ _Oh, is_ that _what this edgy anti-hero thing we’ve got going on is about now? Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been confused ever since we returned._ ’

Adrien fiercely shook his head. Bad enough that he was personifying his own alter ego in his mind; he didn’t need to be questioning his motives again on top of everything else.

He had fucked up. He had fucked up bad. He should have waited until Ladybug got to know him, the _real_ him, not the face he put up for the public, not the mask he wore during battle—

But even if she _had_ gotten to know him…it wouldn’t have made one damn difference, would it? She would still be Ladybug.

And he would still be just Adrien.

Feeling the tension of the evening drain away from him, leaving just the shell of a man behind, Adrien covered the tray of food on the table he had set up—it would go in the trash, uneaten, because he no longer possessed anything remotely resembling an appetite anymore.

Adrien eyed the bottle of wine, already uncorked, waiting by two flute glasses. Wasted.

He snatched up the bottle and took a swig, feeling the fruity taste of alcohol numb his senses the longer he drank. When the bottle was empty, he was tempted to let it smash onto the balcony, to hell with it, to hell with this night, and to hell with him.

But something stopped him—a tiny cat’s paw resting on his ring as he clutched the neck of the bottle.

“Don’t lose yourself to darkness because of a woman,” Plagg scolded him, though his tone lacked the usual derision he held for humans and their emotions. “And yes, Ladybug is just that—a woman. It’s time you stop treating her like she’s the sun and stars, Adrien. Because she’s just a person. Just like you.”

A person? What person? He didn’t know what Plagg was talking about.

Adrien did not feel remotely like a person anymore.

Years of yearning, of dreaming…shattered the moment Ladybug looked at him with such horror in her eyes that he felt that he would be sick.

She would have no more to do with him. That much was certain.

He had ruined everything just as easily as if he had used his Cataclysm powers on the thread that tied him and Ladybug together. Both as Adrien, and as Chat Noir, he had lost her.

‘ _Well. That’ll make going against her a little easier, won’t it?_ ’

Adrien’s head spun uncomfortably. He slumped to the floor of his balcony, his loose hand letting the empty wine bottle roll away from him. His eyes felt hot and itchy, so he closed them, feeling something wet roll down his face.

All he could taste was wine, salt, and bitter defeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear. Adrien, my poor misguided cat son. What are you even doing?
> 
> Who else is looking forward to Marinette's freak-out in the next chapter?
> 
> (I know I am. :D)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	6. Guardian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Ahem*
> 
> So, uh...this chapter kinda got away from me. :P
> 
> I'm not unhappy with the way it turned out, though. Just managed to take ME by surprise is all. XD
> 
> Regardless, enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

‘ _Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit—_ ’

“Hellooo?” Alya trilled, yanking Marinette forcefully out of the inner mantra she’d been chanting in her head all weekend. Marinette glanced up, finding her best friend frowning as she eyed her. “You listening to me, Marinette?”

“Of course,” Marinette replied automatically, taking stock of the situation: let’s see, Alya’s phone was out, so it was a safe bet that she was talking about something to do with the Ladyblog. Marinette only had to give her about a minute’s worth of attention before she could sink back into the horrified divine cursing coursing through her brain.

Friday night had been a _disaster_. Ladybug had gone in there, fearing the worst. Instead, she got _way_ more than she bargained for.

_“…I love you, Ladybug.”_

Marinette screamed inwardly, and the mantra increased in pitch and frequency.

Adrien Agreste had confessed to being in love with Ladybug.

He had been in love with Ladybug for _eight years._

And _she_ was Ladybug!!!

‘ _Holy SHIT!!!_ ’

“I know!” Alya suddenly chimed in, and Marinette froze, fearing that her best friend could suddenly read minds. But Marinette must have said the words out loud by accident, for Alya was still focused on her phone, scrolling through something. “Can you believe it? The big battle with Viner was _epic_ , and I got a front row seat! Check it out!”

Oblivious to Marinette’s preoccupation, Alya shoved her phone under her best friend’s nose, playing the video of the fight between Ladybug, Chat Noir, and the plant-based akuma. Marinette held in her sigh, watching as Ladybug—herself—plowed into Chat Noir when he got too close to the akumatized victim, fearing what he would do with those claws of his if she let him get out of hand. God, what a nightmare she found herself in nowadays…

“I didn’t realize you were there,” Marinette mumbled as Alya removed the phone from her face. She gave Marinette a curious look, and Marinette cursed under her breath, realizing her slip. “I mean, I thought you were working on a big editorial piece this week. Could you really afford to go running after Ladybug Thursday night?”

Alya snorted.

“Oh come on—you think some stupid editorial is more important to me than the _Ladyblog?_ Now that traffic is picking up again, there’s no _way_ I’m missing _any_ of her fights ever again!”

“I hope your boss was understanding…”

“What Eric doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Alya sniffed. “Besides, I got his precious editorial done as soon as I got back from filming Ladybug take down the Viner, so it’s a non-issue.”

“Really? And did you end up sleeping at all that night?”

“Skipped class for some extra z’s,” Alya said casually, and Marinette shook her head. Her best friend was incorrigible.

“Just be careful,” Marinette requested, sipping at her malt shake as Alya gave attention to her neglected sherbet. “Things are a lot more dangerous now, with this new Hawk Moth turning people into akuma left and right.”

“And with Chat Noir and his new…attitude…” Alya scrunched up her nose, glancing up from her phone to peer worriedly at her best friend. “I really don’t get him. Why turn to the dark side? He’s been MIA for seven years, comes back a Greek god—”

“Alya—”

“I’m just saying. Just because he’s super-hot now doesn’t excuse his behavior, though.” Alya frowned down at her phone, where the video was paused on the moment Chat Noir tripped over Ladybug’s foot, his Cataclysm-ridden claws heading straight for the spade the Viner was using as his weapon. “Not even _Batman_ tries to murder his villains. What the hell’s wrong with that boy?”

“Too much catnip?” Marinette offered, smiling weakly at the pathetic joke. It was the only way she could keep her sanity in this moment, however—there was too much going on in her mind for her to be able to focus on Chat Noir for very long, despite the threat he posed to all of Paris now.

“This is serious,” Alya scolded her, finally setting her phone down, her fingers twirling over the spoon in her sherbet. She fixed Marinette with a studious frown, appearing to chew on her tongue. That told Marinette that her best friend was holding some detail back that she wasn’t sure whether she should share or not. And since Alya nearly always said what was on her mind most of the time, the fact that she was actually considering _not_ telling Marinette something made Marinette worry about how bad it could be.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to chance it.

“Your sherbet’s melting,” she reported, nodding to the barely touched ice cream in front of Alya. Her best friend glanced down at it, witnessed that it was indeed melting sadly, and then pushed it to the side, folding her arms under her chest as she leaned on the table.

“I’ve had to block some people from commenting on the Ladyblog,” she said, her voice low and fervent. Anxious, Marinette leaned in, too, as if they were having a forbidden discussion.

“Why?”

“Well, some of them…not a lot, just, a few more than there should be, like, at _all_ …some of them think that…Chat Noir has the right idea, wanting to—to get rid of the akumatized victims.”

Marinette felt her blood run cold.

“WHAT?!” She yelped, much too loud to be allowed. Francoise, the owner of the gelato shop, cleared his throat and gave them raised eyebrows, prompting Marinette to cringe in apology.

“I know,” Alya assured her, though at a much more reasonable volume. Her brows were furrowed, hazel eyes intense. “It shocked me, too. I never had this problem with the Ladyblog when it first started out…but now that Chat Noir’s gone rogue…I dunno. Seems like every dickhead with a stupid opinion is coming out of the woodwork, saying that we should be cheering Chat Noir on, not vilifying him.” She raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. “Can you imagine if this attitude was popular when I became Lady Wi-Fi? I would’ve been…y’know…”

Alya lifted a finger and drew it across her throat in a significant manner, making a cleaving sound with her teeth. The blasé manner in which she referenced the possibility of her own death made Marinette’s heart creep into her throat, pounding violently against her esophagus.

“Th-the victims don’t _choose_ to be akumatized,” Marinette stuttered, this news making her nervous enough for old habits to die hard. “Hawk Moth takes advantage of their weakened state. It’s not their fault.”

Alya glanced away for a moment.

“…Actually…”

Her eyes returned to Marinette, tightening at the edges. She looked more uncomfortable than Marinette had ever seen her, and it worried her.

“…You wouldn’t know this, since you’ve never been akumatized yourself, Marinette…” Marinette held her breath, waiting for the swift appraisal in Alya’s gaze, suspicion sparking in the hazel eyes framed by her glasses. But Alya only continued to look discomfited. “…But when the akuma possesses you, and you hear Hawk Moth’s voice in your head…he actually gives you a _choice._ ” Alya twisted her lips. “Power, in return for a favor: the Miraculous of Paris’ superheroes. I think…I think any of us are free to say no, if our will is strong enough. But the temptation… It’s hard to resist. Very hard.”

Marinette stared at Alya, feeling the straw from her malt shake fall out of her open mouth.

“You told me you didn’t remember anything,” she said softly, afraid that her tone would be accusing if she dared to raise her voice. Alya shook her head.

“I don’t, really. Everything about that day is still hazy.” There was a deadened look in her eyes, something haunted that Marinette only caught flashes of from time to time. “But I do dream about it. Even now, I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night, reaching for my phone, as if I’m about to fling a stop or pause button at someone. Like Lady Wi-Fi is never really gone…just lurking beneath the surface. Waiting for me to let my guard down.”

Alya smiled, the weakness of it bringing concern rushing to the forefront of Marinette’s mind.

“I refuse to sleep over at Nino’s for a whole week when that happens. I don’t wanna wake up one morning just to find that I accidentally—”

“Stop,” Marinette commanded, her voice soft, but firm, as she laid a hand over Alya’s. “You would _never_ hurt Nino.”

“Sure, _Alya_ wouldn’t. But Lady Wi-Fi?” Alya gave a mild shrug, and said no more on the subject. But the uncharacteristic seriousness of her best friend worried Marinette, who promptly decided that a distraction was in order.

“Here, I need your help with something.” She reached over, tugging her sketchbook from her bag. “Do you know anything about the Carnival of Venice?”

“That festival with masks? Not really. Why?” Alya asked curiously as Marinette set her sketchbook on the table, feverishly rifling through the used pages.

“It’s my theme for my spring fashion line,” Marinette explained as she flipped pages, “but I’m _stuck._ It’s been frustrating me all week, and even though I have until next week before I have to see Adrien again, I don’t want a repeat of last time.”

But, then again, Marinette had a whole _slew_ of separate problems concerning Adrien that she would have to actually deal with in due time, didn’t she? After all, screaming unintelligibly into her pillow all weekend did not a solution make.

“Oh, yeah.” Alya scowled at the reminder. “By the way, that offer to break his kneecaps still stands.”

“Thank you,” Marinette laughed. “But it won’t be necessary. I just need a spark—something that’ll get the ball rolling, you know? Like, what do you think of—hold on, I’m trying to find it—”

“Wait,” Alya stopped her, hand lying flat on a page Marinette was about to skip past. “What’s that?”

Marinette paused, and then flushed when she realized that Alya had spotted her sketch of Chat Noir’s mask. She cursed herself inwardly for not tearing out that page and tossing it when she had the chance.

“Nothing,” Marinette insisted with a sigh, trying to get under Alya’s hand to turn the page. “I was just doodling aimlessly one day—”

“Hold on,” Alya pressed her, swatting her hand away. A manic gleam was alight in her eyes—a gleam Marinette had learned to associate with the fervor the Ladyblog usually inspired in Alya. Immediately, she was on guard. “This…this could work.”

“What?” Asked Marinette, confused on what Alya was seeing that she clearly couldn’t. In response, Alya tapped the page where Chat Noir’s cat eyes peered up at them nonchalantly.

“The Carnival of Venice is all about masks, right? Well, why not take that, but add a Parisian twist by making it about Paris’ own unique superhero?”

Marinette blinked at that, startled.

“A…a fashion line featuring Ladybug?”

“Yes!” Alya cried, nodding her head excitedly. “I mean, there’s all sorts of Ladybug merchandise out there, but a _fashion line_ featuring her? Yet to be done.” Alya grinned, pointing her sherbet-slick spoon at Marinette. “Until now, that is.”

Marinette stared at her best friend, struck once again by the raw genius that was Alya Cesaire. It was so obvious—why hadn’t she thought of it herself?

“But I have to make five ensembles…I don’t think I could stretch Ladybug’s design that far…”

“Then think of other superheroes,” Alya allowed, giving a shrug. She frowned down at the page with Chat Noir’s mask. “Although, I might forego Chat Noir being included in this. Until he gets his act together, he hasn’t done anything to deserve a Marinette Dupain-Cheng original creation.”

Marinette giggled. The salt was strong in Alya, and she loved her best friend for it.

“That’s actually a really good idea,” Marinette praised with a grin. “Thank you, Alya!”

Alya waved her hand through the air, as if to brush off the thanks.

“Happy to be your inspiration, girl, but the real challenge is up to you…” Alya’s eyes glinted deviously, and her voice dropped several octaves, “…to _make it work._ ”

Marinette’s mouth popped open in outrage.

“How _dare_ you,” she growled, getting up with a huff. “I’m taking my thanks back as well as rescinding our friendship.”

“Noooo, Marinette don’t leaaave meeee,” Alya cried dramatically, throwing her arms around Marinette’s hips as she tried to make her escape. “Who will I watch bad movies with to laugh about afterwards? Who will help me take suggestive slumber party pics for Nino when we’re having a girl’s night and I want to tease him? Don’t go, Marinette, my love!”

“Oh my god, let go,” Marinette huffed, though she, too, was laughing along with Alya. The shadows in her best friend’s eyes had fled for the moment, leaving only the fire and slight spark of insanity usually present. Even as Marinette fought to free herself from Alya’s grasp and Francoise clucked his tongue at their antics, the important thing was that Alya was back to herself, thoughts of Lady Wi-Fi lurking beneath the surface forgotten.

For now.

 

* * *

 

Swept away by that tease of a muse Marinette called “inspiration”, she was able to push all other thoughts and problems out of her mind, throwing her all into stitching her own twist into the design of Ladybug’s costume, paying particular attention to the mask, because while it suited Marinette’s purposes of hiding her identity just fine, it was a little plain to be considered a _Carnivale_ mask. So absorbed was she in her work as she sat at her desk at _Tres Bien_ Boutique that it was a moment before she realized that Symone was hovering over her, nostrils flaring dangerously.

“And just _what_ do you think you’re doing?” She boomed imperiously after a moment, causing Marinette to jump and squawk, nearly falling out of her swivel chair at the sudden shock.

“Sy-Symone!”

“ _Where_ is the coffee I asked for an hour ago? If you have time to doodle, I assume you have time to get coffee, at least.”

“I—” Marinette blinked. “Wait…didn’t you send Felix out for coffee an hour ago?”

“Well, why isn’t he back with it?!” Symone demanded of Marinette. She swallowed her irritation at Symone’s unreasonable demand, reminding herself that she needed this internship if she wanted her dream to succeed…she just had to suck it up for now…

“I don’t know,” she intoned, “where did you send him?”

Symone waved a careless hand.

“Just to this café around the corner from some dinky massage parlor or something,” she said, turning her back and walking away. “They have the best macchiatos, but I don’t remember their service being _this_ slow. Go fetch him, will you? He’s taking _forever._ ”

‘ _Why don’t you just_ call _him?_ ’ Marinette’s thoughts growled, but she forced herself to behave, standing stiffly and stowing her sketchbook in the top drawer of her desk. She had to tell herself that Symone was just being more unreasonable than usual because she was under a lot of stress after deciding to create an all-new winter line on such short notice…this wasn’t about Marinette…her boss did _not_ have a vendetta against her…

Once outside, Marinette allowed herself to huff as she headed to her car. It didn’t help that Symone was sending her out just to recover her assistant when she could simply call him and ask where he was—she acted like even _that_ was beneath her. And she didn’t give Marinette much to work with, either: would it have _killed_ her to remember the name of the café she was so desperate for caffeine from?

‘ _A dinky massage parlor…_ ’

Come to think of it, there _was_ a café right around the corner from Master Fu’s, wasn’t there?

Marinette sighed. It was a lead, at least. Her instincts would no doubt be more helpful than Symone was, and so she started her car and shifted it into drive, pulling away from the boutique to head uptown. Hopefully she’d find Felix so she could get Symone off her back, though there was a very good chance that they would just pass each other and that Marinette was just wasting time…

‘ _Happy thoughts,_ ’ she reminded herself with a deep breath, turning on the radio to drown out all other negativity. She couldn’t afford to lose herself in her own mind right now—she had lost enough sleep over the weekend, thinking about _The Thing_ that happened Friday night. And while a part of her was still freaking out about it in the back of her mind, she just couldn’t focus on it at the moment; she was far too busy to worry about anything else right now.

That was her story, and Marinette was sticking to it.

As Marinette stopped at the traffic light, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel, she glanced over to Master Fu’s massage parlor out of habit. The lights were off, but that wasn’t so strange—he was usually out and about during this time of day. Dimly, she wondered if she should get his permission before using Ladybug’s image in her design. True, she _was_ Ladybug, but still, perhaps Master Fu wouldn’t be too pleased about her parading around Miraculous clothes of her own design, Ladybug or not—

As Marinette pondered, the door to Master Fu’s massage parlor moved slightly, creeping open a crack. She blinked, watching the door. But no one came out. It was as if it was moved merely by the wind.

…Master Fu would _never_ leave his door open like that…

A sense of dread settled in the pit of Marinette’s stomach. She turned on her signal light and pulled over, parking against the curb. Her steps were cautious as she approached the massage parlor, glancing around. She didn’t like that she could be seen, in broad daylight, heading into a place that was obviously closed, but what choice did she have? If it was just paranoia that drove her steps, then she would be embarrassed about it later…but if something had happened…

Wishing fervently that she had brought Tikki to work with her today, Marinette slipped into the massage parlor.

The hallway was dark. Her sense of foreboding growing, Marinette carefully tiptoed down the hall, approaching the door that led to Master Fu’s massage room. This, too, had been left open. And that was very concerning.

Biting her lip, Marinette eased the door open farther, peering into the darkness.

“Hello?” She called softly, hating the way her voice trembled. “Master Fu? Are you here?”

A drawn-out groan answered her. Heart in her throat, Marinette slammed her hand on the light switch by the wall. The room was suddenly flooded with light, and Marinette only had a moment to adjust to the sudden brightness before she found Master Fu’s crumpled form on the floor, looking impossibly small and helpless.

“Master Fu!!!”

Marinette dropped to her knees, her hands fluttering anxiously over the fallen master, unsure of how to help, and terrified to do more harm in haste.

“Master Fu, what happened? Can you hear me? Master Fu, please, say something!”

Master Fu mumbled, his eyes shut tight, teeth grit in pain.

“…yz…” he muttered, and Marinette had to lean over to hear him, tears pricking her eyes.

“What?”

“…Wayzz…where is…”

Marinette’s eyes found Master Fu’s right wrist…and felt something inside her turn hollow.

Master Fu’s Miraculous was missing.

“Oh my god,” Marinette gasped, blinking back tears as she tried to think straight. She couldn’t believe this—how could this happen? Master Fu was always so solid, dependable—no matter how many changes life had thrown at her, just like her parents, he had always been there.

Who the hell _dared_ do to this to him?!

“Marinette?”

Marinette whirled around, automatically spreading her arms, as if to defend Master Fu from more harm. A tall figure was approaching from the hallway, coming into view as he stood in the doorway.

Felix stared at her, his slightly raised eyebrows raising even higher as he spotted the collapsed figure behind her. The grip on coffee holder he was clutching tightened.

“What happened?” He demanded, his voice sharper than Marinette had ever heard it. She blinked, some of her dry heaving beginning to ease.

“I-I don’t know,” she stammered, gesturing helplessly to Master Fu. “When I came in, I found him like this…”

Master Fu gave another groan, and Felix’s lips stiffened. He carefully set the coffee aside and approached, measured steps carrying him swiftly into the room. Marinette tensed—she was very protective—but Felix merely sank to his knees like her, peering down at Master Fu.

“Is he bleeding?”

“I don’t know.”

“Call an ambulance,” Felix directed, stretching a long-fingered hand towards Master Fu. Marinette nearly smacked his hand away, but he only brushed his fingertips across Master Fu’s forehead.

“Clammy,” he muttered, drawing his hand back to grip his chin as he stared with a kind of painful intensity at the fallen master. “Could be going into shock…” Abruptly, his cool blue gaze switched to her. “The _ambulance,_ Marinette.”

“Oh! R-right…” As Marinette fumbled with her phone, she sent a curious glance Felix’s way. “How did you know I was in here?”

“I saw you walk in,” Felix muttered, his eyes now back on Master Fu. “I knew you were meant to be working instead of getting a massage, and so I wondered what you were up to.”

And so he’d followed her? Marinette wondered in the back of her mind whether or not he would have turned her in to Symone if she was indeed skipping work, but it became a non-issue as soon as dispatch answered. Marinette quickly rattled off the address of the massage parlor and begged them to hurry before she hung up, curling up at Master Fu’s side, clutching her knees to her chest. A couple times, she felt Felix looking at her, but he said nothing, so neither did she, the both of them just waiting for the ambulance to come.

When it finally arrived, Marinette nearly wept with relief. She claimed herself as Master Fu’s niece, and was therefore granted the privilege of riding in the ambulance with him. Felix declined heading to the hospital, but he did promise to let Symone know where she was going. Marinette gave him a tight smile while inwardly reflecting that if Symone didn’t call her screaming about unprofessionalism within five minutes, it would be a miracle.

In the ambulance, the EMTs threw around a lot of medical jargon that Marinette didn’t understand. She did hear them remark that, at his age, Master Fu was incredibly healthy, and that it was miraculous that whatever happened to him hadn’t killed him.

Marinette said nothing. She just stared at his empty wrist, her lips pressed together tightly to keep from throwing up what little she ate for lunch.

The waiting room was torture. Marinette couldn’t sit still, so she settled for pacing around the room when she really wanted to transform, hunt down whatever scum had done this to her master, and beat them to a bloody pulp. Rarely did she ever feel this kind of anger, but to attack someone so _helpless_ —

‘ _Not helpless,_ ’ Marinette chided herself as she paced, her teeth pressed into her lower lip anxiously. ‘ _Master Fu was a Miraculous holder. He could’ve defended himself…_ ’

Unless whoever had robbed him had gotten the drop on him.

Marinette paused, a realization so startling causing her to freeze in place: whoever had attacked Master Fu must have known about his Miraculous. She hadn’t been fussed about much else in the room, but now that she thought about it, nothing else had been disturbed. And if only Master Fu’s bracelet had been taken, then it was unbelievably clear who the culprit was.

Somehow, some way, Hawk Moth had discovered the guardian of the Miraculous.

And he had struck hard and fast, leaving Marinette behind, blinking in the aftermath.

“Excuse me? You’re Mr. Fu’s niece?”

“Yes,” Marinette answered immediately, shaking off the horror of her realization to whirl and give the nurse her full attention. “Is he all right?”

“He’s fine. He suffered some bruising to the temple, and one of his ribs was cracked, but it looks like he’s going to pull through. He was very lucky that you found him when you did.”

Marinette had to work to suppress her derisive snort.

Lucky. _Ha._

If luck was any sort of factor here, then Marinette should have arrived _before_ the attack took place.

“Can I see him?” Marinette requested through the restriction in her throat. The nurse nodded and graciously led Marinette to the correct room, where Master Fu was resting. There was a bandage wrapped around his head. His eyes were closed, but almost as if he sensed Marinette enter the room, they opened as soon as she stepped inside. He smiled a painful looking smile.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite niece,” he greeted, and Marinette felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. If he was feeling up to joking with her, then he couldn’t be that badly hurt. Thank goodness.

The second nurse in the room checking Master Fu’s vitals smiled.

“Isn’t that lovely? It’s good to see the youth still caring for their elders.”

Marinette smiled as naturally as she could, drawing forward and resting her hands on Master Fu’s folded ones.

“How’re you feeling?”

“As healthy as an ox.” He winked at Marinette. “Seems like I’ll have to be kept overnight, however.”

“Hospital policy,” said the first nurse, her tone all business, though she was smiling. Waving to the second nurse, she added, “We’ll give you two some privacy.”

The click of the door was loud in the silence of the room. Marinette waited a few seconds before she drew up a chair, perching on the edge as she peered down at Master Fu, anxiousness making her jittery; her leg bounced in a hyperactive fashion.

“Master Fu,” she whispered, leery of the walls having ears, “what happened to you?”

Master Fu grunted and pushed himself to sit up. Marinette protested—the man had a broken rib, for god’s sake!—but he waved off her concerns, pulling himself into a semi-sitting position, assisted by the pillows that propped him up from behind. He reached for his beard, frowning thoughtfully as he twirled it around a finger.

“I don’t know,” he admitted after a moment. “One minute, I was having tea with Wayzz when I heard someone come in. The next minute…” He frowned, looking troubled. “Whoever it was struck me from behind. I never saw them.”

His eyes suddenly found his empty wrist. Sighing heavily, he closed his free hand around it, as if it was a phantom limb he could still feel.

“Wayzz tried to warn me—he must have seen who it was. That might have been why the assault turned to thievery as well.”

Marinette laid her hands upon his once again, searching to comfort him, even if she didn’t have the words.

“You don’t think it was…you know…” She lowered her voice until it was inaudible, mouthing the words rather than speak them aloud. “Hawk Moth?”

Master Fu shook his head sadly.

“I am afraid there’s no way of knowing.”

Her hands tightened convulsively around his, fear beginning to take hold.

“What do we do?”

“‘We’ can’t do anything,” Master Fu replied with another shake of his head. “As it is, I am confined to this bed until further notice, and even when they release me, I still have a healing rib to contend with. I am not as young as I once was, and now, without Wayzz, I am afraid I will be feeling my age very, very soon.” He fixed Marinette with a serious stare. “There is, however, something you can do for me, Ladybug.”

“Anything,” Marinette promised. Master Fu nodded at this with a smile.

“Though I am told I may be being released tomorrow, I have no way of knowing whether or not that will be true. That means that the Miraculous—the only two Miraculous in my protection now—are in danger. Until I am well enough to once again become the guardian, you, Ladybug, must safeguard the Miraculous chest.”

Marinette felt her eyes go wide in her face.

“M- _me?!_ But Master Fu—”

“I trust you completely,” Master Fu reminded her, giving her hands a reassuring squeeze. “You must do this, Ladybug.”

A thousand waves of doubt coursed through Marinette, her teeth worrying her lip. Could she really do this? Only a guardian was fit to protect the Miraculous—but Master Fu was currently in no condition, as he already said. He was just requesting that she protect two more Miraculous in addition to her own…but even so, the thought of such a task was still daunting. What if she screwed up? What if she accidentally misplaced the Bee Miraculous? Or the Fox Miraculous? What if she broke one, or both? What if she—

Master Fu grunted, wincing as his side seemed to give a painful lurch. Marinette stared at him, at her master and her guide, dependable, infallible…lying in a hospital bed, injured in the course of his duty, his Miraculous missing.

He had almost had to sacrifice everything, and in his time of need, he was turning to her.

That was way more important than any self-doubting thought Marinette could come up with.

Nodding and lifting her chin, Marinette agreed.

“Of course, Master Fu. You can count on me.”

“As I knew I could,” he answered, looking satisfied with her answer. “Now, listen closely Ladybug—commit these words to memory, for I will not repeat them a second time, in case we run the risk of being overheard…”

As quietly as he could, Master Fu relayed to Ladybug just how to retrieve the Miraculous chest from his massage parlor. She listened intently, engraving every word into her brain, and nodding when Master Fu asked if she understood.

“Yes. If you want me to, I’ll go right now and retrieve it.”

“Please do. Don’t worry yourself about me: I won’t be going many places for a while,” Master Fu remarked, putting on a brave grimace. Marinette smiled weakly, and then took leave of her injured master, closing the door quietly behind her.

Marinette’s mind was buzzing as she took a taxi back to Master Fu’s massage parlor, having left her car there after being driven in the ambulance to the hospital. She threw a bunch of money into the front seat without even really looking at it, encouraging the driver to keep the change when he sputtered at what was clearly an extravagant tip. She waited until he drove off before she breathed deeply, entering the massage parlor for the second time. A small shoot of hope began to well within her as she stepped inside—perhaps Wayzz wasn’t far. If the attacker wasn’t Hawk Moth 2.0, then maybe she would find the bracelet on the floor of the parlor somewhere, initially hidden out of sight in her concern for Master Fu himself—

Marinette turned the light switch on for the second time that day, and received another shock to her system.

The room had been _ransacked._ Tatami had been torn through, the massage mat slashed, the table was flipped over, shelves upended, contents of bottles spilled across the floor, Master Fu’s favorite tea pot smashed to pieces. Marinette stared at the horror surrounding her, her heart pounding so hard that she was certain it would burst free from her body at any minute.

Who had done _this?!_ Whoever it was, they had had a downright _tantrum_ , tearing the place apart, obviously looking for something, treating Master Fu’s possessions with as little care as possible. To add insult to injury, Marinette thought she could make out _claw marks_ gouging through the underside of the table.

Fear eroded away, replaced by _rage._ If who she thought was responsible for this mess had indeed caused it, she was going to _fucking end him._

Taking shaky breaths to steady herself, Marinette carefully made her way through the room, approaching the old gramophone that sat in the corner, miraculously untouched. Marinette followed Master Fu’s instructions to the letter, pressing her thumbs to the dragons’ eyes and pressing the second button of the top row, the second button of the bottom row, and the fourth button of the top row, in that order, in the panel that appeared. She held her breath as the gramophone whirred and opened, revealing the prize.

Rising from the base was an ancient box that pulsed with power, power that warmed Marinette’s fingertips the moment she touched it. She took a deep breath, arguing with herself. As tempted as she was to peek and check to make sure the Fox and Bee Miraculous were still where they were supposed to be, something about the room being disturbed chilled her spine, as if she was being watched. Glancing around at nonexistent shadows, Marinette shoved the chest into her bag and fled from the room, eager to leave the creeping feeling of eyes on her far behind.

The decision to leave the chest in her room was ultimately vetoed; it felt unsafe to just leave it unguarded, and Tikki would have about a million questions that Marinette just did not have the time to answer right now, if the missed calls and texts from Symone were any indication. Sighing under her breath, Marinette drove back to _Tres Bien_ Boutique to finish up the last half hour of work, despite knowing that she would just be sitting there, clutching her bag for dear life to assure that no one and nothing would be able to get to the Miraculous chest that was now under her protection—

Once Marinette entered the boutique’s back room, it was clear that something else was going on: there was a buzz of activity, and whereas the afternoon had been fairly busy, now people were flapping around, demanding questions of the locations of certain fabrics flying around and how there was a shortage of thimbles, where the hell were the extra thimbles?! Marinette stared, stunned and blinking, until Symone’s voice rang out.

“Ah, Marinette, there you are!”

Marinette turned as the tall woman walked purposefully towards her, something suspiciously familiar tucked under her arm…

“Is that my sketchbook?” Marinette questioned, blinking in surprise. Symone nodded, a smile on her face as she brought said sketchbook forward.

“Why, yes it is. See, I was looking through it, wondering what was so important for you to design while my coffee order was waiting—”

“You _looked_ through it?” Marinette protested, her eyes widening. Symone raised a heavily penciled eyebrow.

“Is that a problem?”

‘ _Of course it’s a problem!_ ’ Marinette wanted to burst out, ‘ _It’s a BIG problem!_ ’ No one had blatantly invaded her privacy like this since she had moved out of her parents’ house. Who the hell did Symone think she was, just rifling through her sketchbook like it was no big deal?!

Marinette pressed her lips together, warring with herself. If she didn’t step lightly, there was a good chance that Symone would be showing her the door faster than she could apologize for her heated words. But if she _didn’t_ say something, then Symone would actually think that her behavior was acceptable. She leaned one way, than another, facilitating between the rock and the hard place, thinking—

Symone’s patience was the exact length of a goldfish’s memory: she casually opened Marinette’s sketchbook, continuing on as Marinette gawked at her.

“In any case, these designs you have, inspired by Ladybug? They have potential.” Symone gave a decisive nod, her fingers sliding through the sketchbook in wanton disrespect…or that’s how it felt to Marinette, anyway. “I probably could come up with something better, if given the time…but these will do.”

She snapped the sketchbook shut, smiling down at Marinette.

“So your designs will be the feature of my new winter line.”

Marinette stared at Symone.

How long had she dreamed of such an honor? For a year and a half, at least, before she had made herself face the fact that Symone would only be focused on what _she_ wanted for her boutique. So to have the dream that eluded her abruptly handed to her after everything she’d had to deal with today?

Surprisingly, it wasn’t as satisfying as Marinette had envisioned.

“Symone,” she began, following after the seamstress as she began to walk away, pawing through more of Marinette’s designs, “while I’m honored, really, I am…I don’t think you can use those.”

Symone paused, and the employees nearest them fell silent.

“Oh?” Symone did not turn to Marinette, but kept her back resolutely towards her, manicured nails clutching her precious sketchbook. “And why not?”

“Well, first of all, I’m designing them for a spring fashion line, not a winter one—”

“So we’ll just lengthen them,” Symone replied with a shrug, and Marinette bit her tongue to keep herself from growling in impatience.

“And second of all,” she continued in a voice of determined calm, “those designs are meant for a senior project I’m doing at IFA.”

“A school project?” Symone snorted, turning to shoot Marinette a condescending look. “That’s no problem. You simply need to turn the sketches in, correct? I’ll simply make copies and you can have the originals back, no problem.”

“You can’t make my designs your winter line, Symone,” Marinette finally said. The whole back room went quiet at these words this time.

Slowly, Symone revolved on her heel, looking down her nose at Marinette, her carved features sphinxlike.

“This is a very excellent opportunity I am offering you, Marinette.” She spoke distinctly, her tone clipped. Marinette felt the incoming sense of doom, but she pushed herself to stand her ground. Symone had no business going through her sketchbook in the first place, boss or not. She couldn’t have the designs Marinette had worked so hard to create. No way.

“Were you planning on giving me credit?” She asked, fearing she already knew the answer. The worst was confirmed a second later when Symone waved an unconcerned hand.

“You would’ve been given credit as my employee,” she stated simply, free hand moving to her hip while she retained her vice grip on Marinette’s sketchbook. “That’s enough.”

“Symone, how is what you’re doing better than what Chloe did to you?” Marinette dared to question, ignoring the gasps around the room. She didn’t care if this was a faux pas _,_ Symone could _not_ have her hard work without giving credit where it was due!

Symone stared down at her for one long moment. Marinette stared back, ignoring the trembling of her legs, the eyes on her, everything but Symone as she inspected her. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting tensely for the explosion.

And then, quite suddenly…Symone smiled.

Marinette’s dread increased by a hundred.

“The difference is that I’m asking,” Symone stated after a moment, leaning over to meet Marinette’s gaze on her level. “I think your designs have potential, and with a few tweaks, I could turn them into something spectacular. So I’m asking to use them. You’re free to say no, Marinette.”

“I am?” Marinette asked warily.

“Of course,” Symone simpered, straightening up to her full height once more. “You’re free to do whatever you want. You’re free to refuse my generosity, and keep these rather lackluster designs to yourself. You’re free to spit in my face, after everything I’ve done for you. You’re even free to take your sketchbook, walk out the way you came in, and never come back again.”

Symone held out Marinette’s sketchbook, delicately resting it in the palms of her hands. Her dark eyes glittered as she inspected Marinette, waiting.

“So what will it be, Marinette?”

Marinette didn’t need the subtext interpreted for her—if she refused Symone now, she was as good as fired.

And half of her was fine with that.

Half of her wanted to snatch her sketchbook and tell Symone off for rifling through things that didn’t belong to her. Half of her wanted to expound upon just how much talent Symone had wasted all this time in keeping Marinette as her coffee-fetcher, and now it was too late to try and use that talent, _especially_ when all she wanted to do was exploit it without giving Marinette any of the credit for _her_ designs. Marinette wanted to give a mock bow, state just how much she wouldn’t miss this place, and stomp through the door with her head held high.

But the other half of her stared into Symone’s eyes, seeing the future she had slaved away for so close, so very close. The other half realized that, if Symone decided to take her designs public, that it would be like opening the entire _world_ of Paris fashion up to her, a precious pearl nestled safely in its safeguard clam, hers for the taking. Even if Symone decided to take the credit for such designs, it would still be _Marinette’s_ clothes that people would be wearing, _Marinette’s_ designs that would be ranted and raved about (if they liked her stuff, of course). And Symone would have _Marinette_ to thank for all the success, and if Marinette ever decided that she was being unappreciated, it would be _Symone_ who would have to beg and grovel and plead for her to stay, if she wanted to continue to have such success.

Really, other than the small price of her dignity…what did Marinette have to lose?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Swallowing her pride was difficult—very difficult. Even so, she still managed it, giving Symone an amiable look once she opened her eyes again.

“Fine,” she allowed. The room sighed as one, and Symone’s self-satisfied smile brightened.

“Wonderful.” She turned away again, continuing to flip through Marinette’s sketchbook. “You can have this back when I finish making copies.”

“Fine.”

“And I’ll need you to refine some of the sketchier drafts so that we can get working immediately.”

“Fine.”

“Lovely,” Symone said, strutting away to her office. Marinette sighed and trudged her way to her desk, lowering her bag into her lap as she sat down. She could feel the Miraculous chest outlined in the fabric, and she sighed again. Just when had her life gotten so complicated?

A shadow fell over her desk. Marinette looked up to find Felix there, watching her. A pale eyebrow was raised.

Marinette frowned at his expression.

“What? You think I should’ve just quit instead?”

“I am surprised at how easily you gave in is all.” Felix replied. Marinette said nothing, unsure if anyone else was aware of it—the secret to her designs. Even if Symone was raring to take all the credit, all one had to do was just look a little closer to note who the true designer was…

But Marinette was keeping that under her hat; if she breathed a word to anyone, Symone would know, and would probably demand that she change her designs to erase her signature. So she wasn’t going to show anyone that she wasn’t as concerned as she should be, least of all Symone’s personal assistant.

Felix peered at her, as if he suspected her of holding something back. Marinette dropped her gaze from his.

“…How is your uncle?” He asked, surprising Marinette. She had momentarily forgotten that he had been there when she discovered Master Fu.

“Oh, right…he’s fine.” She sighed, rubbing her temples as she felt a migraine coming on. “The doctors are keeping him overnight, but he’ll be home tomorrow.” She hoped.

“Do you know what happened to him?”

Marinette opened her mouth, poised to explain…but then she stopped, peering curiously up at Felix.

Master Fu’s massage parlor had been fine as she left in the ambulance with the assaulted Master Fu. Felix had decided to remain behind to tell Symone why Marinette would not be returning as soon as she should. Presumably, he went back in to get Symone’s coffee…

And then what? Someone _else_ just happened along to wreck the place as soon as he left?

As a matter of fact, it was _awfully_ suspicious for him to have followed her into the massage parlor in the first place. What if…what if he had been there before her?

What if the reason he had come in was because he had already been in the parlor when Marinette made her presence known, and decided that he wouldn’t be able to escape without her noticing?

What if Felix was responsible for this whole mess in the first place?

What if Felix, silent, dour _Felix_ was actually…

Felix met her searching stare with another quirked brow.

“Yes?” He asked curtly, as if she was being rude. Marinette blinked, turning her head from him, though she continued to watch him from her peripheral vision.

“Nothing,” she said quietly. “My uncle said he just took a bad tumble. That was all.”

“Hmm.” Felix stood there, watching Marinette for a moment, a corner of his mouth tilted down. “Then ask him to be more careful in the future. You’re under enough stress, I think, without having to worry about ill relatives.”

“I’m fine,” Marinette persisted, stubborn.

Higher the brow went, but Felix merely gave a short shrug.

“If you say so.”

He left it at that, turning away and heading towards Symone’s office. Marinette watched him go, eyes unable to waver from his tall back.

She had always thought Felix odd, standoffish. It was always just assumed that that was just his way.

But with everything that had happened today…could there be something more sinister to him, lurking beneath the surface?

Marinette’s fingers flexed over the Miraculous chest, still hidden in her bag.

She hoped she was wrong. Her fashion career was precarious enough at the moment—she didn’t want a colleague to be dragged into her superhero drama as well. Rather than blurring the line between her personal and superhero life, it would shatter the barrier between the two spheres completely.

And Marinette didn’t think _anyone_ would be able to handle _those_ consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suuuuspiiiiciouuuus...
> 
> So, shit kind of got real. But again, I'm actually happy with this chapter, even if it didn't go anywhere I expected to. XD
> 
> More of Marinette freaking out about adult problems in the next chapter...and about Adrien's revelation, if she can spare the brain cells. XP
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	7. Autograph

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! Have a chapter~
> 
> (Fuuuuck, how am I already seven chapters deep??? SEND HELP.)
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

The following week was a true testament to how much indignity Marinette could stand.

When Symone demanded that her rougher sketches be more detailed by Monday, she did it.

When Symone asked for a whole new design that was Ladybug-themed on Wednesday because the first one “didn’t say _Tres Bien_ to her”, Marinette redesigned a new outfit to be submitted for approval.

And when Symone _still_ had the audacity to send Marinette out for coffee on Friday, on top of _everything else she was doing…_ Marinette got her coffee. And she resisted the urge to spit in it so valiantly that she felt she rather deserved an Olympic medal for it.

The half of her that had wanted to quit since last week shook its head at her, disgusted with her. Running around like someone’s lackey, doing work that wasn’t being appreciated at all, because Symone _never_ said thank you or congratulated her for her hard work; she just demanded “More! More!” like an ungrateful, spoiled child who had all the toys in the world and yet still had the nerve to act like she was being cheated.

Alya certainly didn’t help matters.

“She’s _WHAT?!_ ” Her friend exploded on the phone when Marinette had to explain why she wouldn’t be making their weekly gelato meet-up. “Nuh-uh, _no way,_ this is crossing the _line_ , Marinette!!”

“I’m so close, Alya,” Marinette pleaded, clutching the phone to her, because she _needed_ some sort of validation, some assurance that she wasn’t crazy for pursuing this. “This could make me. Symone could put me on the map!”

“Seriously, Marinette? You wanna get recognition _this_ way?? I thought you were better than this! You should be blazing your _own_ trail, not riding on the coat tails of someone else’s success—success that _you’re_ killing yourself for! This is absolutely not okay, and I’m coming over _right now_ to kick _your_ ass, and then I’m gonna _gut_ that bitch you call a boss!”

“Alya, _please,_ ” Marinette begged, biting her lip. “I really need your support on this. It’s been so hard…but if I do this right, I could be set for the rest of my life! Please, Alya, tell me that you understand.”

There was a long, drawn-out sigh from the other end.

“…I don’t,” Alya replied, and Marinette felt her heart sink. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t understand. I still love you, girl, but if you want me to actually approve of what you’re doing…I just can’t do it. I believe in you too much to lie and say that I support you selling your soul like this.”

“Alya—”

“I gotta go,” Alya said tersely. “Good luck with Symone’s new winter line.”

The line went dead, and a big, fat lump wedged itself in Marinette’s throat.

Not even her best friend would support her madness. There was clearly something wrong here.

“Do you think I’m crazy?” Marinette asked dully of Tikki, who sat next to her on the desk, her indigo eyes wide and concerned.

“I think you should do what you _want_ to do, Marinette,” Tikki replied, as was her way. She reached out, a tiny hand resting on Marinette’s. “Is this really what you want?”

Marinette closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

Did she like Symone bleeding her dry for every scrap of talent she possessed? No.

Did she like being treated like a work horse, spending hours upon hours each night working for a thankless harpy? _Hell_ no.

Did she like the thought of someone else trying to take all the credit for the work she was nearly killing herself over nowadays? Abso-fucking-lutely _not._

But did she like the thought of an uncertain future compared to the indignities she was forcing herself to bear?

Marinette sighed from her core, and then moved back to her new sketchbook, the one she carefully kept hidden from Symone at all times.

Lack of faith in herself wasn’t the thing holding her back.

It was her fear of the unknown, of failure, that kept her under Symone’s grip, pushing her nose to the grindstone until it was red and raw.

She would rather be worked to death than attempt to venture out on her own at this point. How _sad._

The weekend passed by in a nondescript blur, Marinette fervently thankful for the inactivity of Hawk Moth 2.0 when she was barely getting enough sleep as it was. All too soon, Monday dawned, and she rose with a groan, resigned to her fate.

Another stone of anxiety dropped into her chest this morning: it had been two weeks.

She was due for a meeting with Adrien Agreste today.

For a few agonizing minutes, Marinette let herself tense up over that, her wide eyes on her toes as she drew her knees up to her chest, curling herself tightly into a ball, as if she wished to physically represent how wound up she was on the inside. The reasonable part of her tried to talk her down: she had absolutely nothing to worry about. Adrien didn’t know she was Ladybug. When she walked in, he wouldn’t see a red suit and black spots. He would see Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, there on business of all things fashion. She could do this. She could do this…

With a deep breath, Marinette slipped out of bed and headed for her bathroom to wash up and get ready. She put on a little more make-up than she usually would, desperate to hide the circles under her eyes, and chose the most professional outfit she owned—a white button-down blouse, a black pencil skirt with a matching blazer, nude pantyhose, and shoes that were cute, but still no-nonsense. Sweeping her hair carefully into a bun at the back of her head, she took one look at herself in the mirror and deemed herself ready. Her life may not be as together as she wanted it to be, but at lease she _looked_ like it was.

“Tikki,” Marinette called to the kwami, and Tikki swooped obligingly into the pocket of Marinette’s blazer; they had already agreed that she should start accompanying Marinette everywhere again, just in case of akuma attack, because the sudden silence from Hawk Moth 2.0 was making them both tense.

Her new, undefiled sketchbook in hand, Marinette left her apartment, got in her car, and headed straight for Agreste Fashions, nodding to anyone she passed while entering the lobby, as if she belonged there.

Sylvia was sitting behind her usual large desk, looking as beautiful as ever…if not a little subdued. Marinette felt a ping of sympathy, and she drew forward, placing a carefully wrapped truffle on Sylvia’s desk to announce her presence. The secretary looked up, her dark eyes confused.

“What’s this?”

“Chocolate.” Marinette smiled. “My mom sent me a bit too much, and I’m in a generous mood.” She wished she could do more, honestly…but since _Marinette_ wasn’t supposed to know anything about what Sylvia had had to go through a couple weeks ago, chocolate was the best she could do without coming across as a total creep.

Sylvia picked up the truffle to inspect it, the gold foil flashing in the light. She pursed her lips, then raised her gaze to Marinette, speculating.

“…You’re here to see Mr. Agreste, aren’t you?” She questioned, jolting Marinette back to the low-level hum of panic rioting in the back of her mind.

‘ _Be_ cool,’ Alya’s voice cautioned her, and she took a deep breath.

“Oh, right, heh. Could you let him know I’m here?”

“Of course. Please, have a seat.”

Marinette thanked Sylvia and resumed her position from a couple weeks back, perching nervously on the sleek couch a couple meters away. At least she didn’t match the furniture this time.

After a couple more minutes, Sylvia directed Marinette to the solitary elevator that waited down the hall, to the left of them. She gave Sylvia a nod and a smile, and with her sketchbook clutched protectively to her, she rode the elevator all the way up to the twentieth floor, praying that Adrien had thought to put on a _shirt_ before meeting her this time around.

He was sitting at his desk when the elevator doors slid open. He was staring at something on his computer screens, but his gaze lifted as Marinette carefully entered his office.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng,” he greeted, and Marinette suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Professionalism, right. “Come in.”

“Good morning, Mr. Agreste,” she replied loftily, making her way to the sitting area and having herself a seat without him asking. From her peripheral vision, she thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

“Be right with you,” he said, fiddling around on his computer with something. Marinette waited, helping herself to some coffee and slipping a cookie into her pocket for Tikki. She hoped the kwami had enough sense not to munch on it while Marinette was still in Adrien’s office. She was just adding sugar to her coffee when Adrien finally stood up, dressed well in dark slacks and a dark blue button-up. The sleeves were pushed up, revealing his forearms, and a couple of the top buttons were undone. Marinette nearly pouted. Must be nice to be the CEO of your own company, able to dress however you want with no one saying anything…

“How are you?” Adrien unexpectedly asked as he stepped down into the sitting area, perching on the couch next to Marinette’s claimed couch. She raised a dark eyebrow at him.

“Fine,” she replied, wondering why he was asking, “why?”

Adrien’s eyes roved over her face. Marinette took note of the dark bruises that shadowed his golden lashes.

“You look tired,” he noted. Marinette nodded towards him.

“Back at you.” She hesitated a moment. “Been having trouble sleeping?”

Adrien gave her his model smile. It looked like more of a strain to put it there than normal.

“No more than usual,” he replied, and left it at that.

“If you say so,” Marinette answered, her tone doubtful. Honestly, she’d be suspicious even if she didn’t already know better.

Adrien briefly grimaced before smoothing his face out into the appropriate expression.

“So,” he began delicately, his green gaze flicking around her, “no garment bag today?”

Marinette’s eyelids lowered dangerously.

“I haven’t had the time to sew,” she said stiffly; the reminder of the last time she was here still rankled. To his credit, Adrien did look appropriately apologetic.

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “So. New sketchbook, huh?”

Marinette huffed, releasing her death grip on her current sketchbook and lowering it into her lap.

“Yes. The other one was…compromised.” Without elaborating further, she opened up the sketchbook, flipping past a couple pages before she found what she wanted. “So this is all in the development process. But here’s what I have so far.”

Marinette figured this was a safe choice, as she handed her sketchbook off to Adrien. She was purposefully avoiding anything Ladybug-themed today, afraid it would trigger some unpleasant reactions within the man who was clearly struggling to keep himself together in front of her…

Nevertheless, Adrien stiffened as he inspected her sketch. Marinette bit her lip. What now?

“…This is…” he began quietly, only to trail off, unable to finish. Marinette felt dread settle over her once again, and she didn’t appreciate it one bit.

“Chat Noir,” she finished for him, a hint of challenge in her tone. She hadn’t meant to make a Chat Noir inspired outfit, but that one had been rattling around insistently in her brain for the last week or so, refusing to be ignored until she gave up and finally sketched it out. And, to her extreme annoyance, it ended up turning out _good._ Damn stray.

“Since the _Carnivale de Venezia_ already involves masks…I thought it would be cool to play around with a French superhero theme in my spring line. …Is there a problem?”

Adrien relaxed immediately, his eyes flicking back up to hers.

“No. Actually, this is a very inspired idea…” Adrien suddenly closed her sketchbook, frowning. “Though, I have to tell you, this is the second time today I’ve come across such a theme.”

Marinette felt the blood drain from her face.

“…Really,” she managed to get out, struggling to look only mildly interested, while her insides were roiling. She wasn’t even _finished_ with all the sketches Symone had demanded she make—if she had already sent her work to Adrien—

The tall supermodel/CEO got to his feet, setting her sketchbook carefully onto the coffee table before he moved back to his desk, plucking sheets of paper from it.

“I found this in my printer this morning,” he said, approaching Marinette and showing her what he held. “Faxed straight from _Tres Bien_ Boutique.”

Marinette stared at the familiar sketches, her Ladybug-themed outfits splashed across every page. So much for wanting to spare Adrien unnecessary anguish…

“Symone was impatient,” she noted stiffly, unable to say anything else, for fear she might swear or burst into angry tears.

“It’s safe to say that it was probably a mistake to give her my fax number,” Adrien agreed. He sat back down, gaze turning brooding as he inspected the sketches. Marinette watched him, the darkness in his eyes simmering just beneath the surface. He wasn’t okay, was he? She had broken his heart as Ladybug, and now he was dealing with the aftermath.

Ladybug shouldn’t have left him like that. Adrien did nothing but bare his soul to her, something that could not have been easy to do…

And like a coward, Ladybug had ran away.

No— _Marinette_ had ran away. Because it was _Marinette_ who had been left reeling by that unexpected confession, _Marinette_ who had panicked, fled, and spent the night just staring blankly at the wall, unable to understand anything anymore.

The whole time she had been smitten with Adrien, always watching him, wishing for him…he had been wishing for her, too.

But it was the _wrong_ her.

And that…well, Marinette didn’t really know _how_ to feel about that. Was she upset? Not really. Embarrassed? A little. But the main emotion she registered, after she had gotten over her shock, was pity.

What was it like, to be in love with someone so far away from you for eight years? How did someone just get over that? How did they get back to ‘normal’ after spending so long dreaming of someone they would never have?

Marinette sort of understood—whatever she told Alya otherwise, part of her had still nursed a soft spot for Adrien Agreste before he’d come back and altered her perception of him forever. And she was still dealing with that too, even though it had only been a crush on the idea of a boy she’d known.

How was Adrien coping with the fact that Ladybug did not love him?

Marinette wished she could offer soothing words of sympathy without sounding like she knew too much…but it was impossible, because she _did_ know too much. Adrien wouldn’t understand, and there was no way she could tell him she was Ladybug. That would just make the situation _worse._

Though she wished there was more she could do, Marinette was forced to admit it to herself: all she _could_ do was hope that he would be able to find the strength to move on from Ladybug. Just as she had, finally, moved on from him.

Marinette became aware that she was staring when Adrien’s gaze suddenly met hers. She hastily dropped her eyes to her coffee cup. A long pause ensued.

“Why are you letting Symone take credit for your designs, Marinette?”

Marinette jolted, blinking wide eyes at Adrien. He stared back at her, his face still all-business…but his eyes were intent, searching hers, as if he could lift the truth straight from her mind.

“You…know they’re mine?” She questioned in surprise.

At this, Adrien gave a most unprofessional snort.

“You’re kidding, right?” He teased her, smirking a little as he tilted the top sketch he held on its head. “I know your signature by now.”

Sure enough, he pointed unerringly to the trim at the bottom of the dress, which looked, at first glance, like a random loopy design. But to a trained eye, Marinette’s name in delicate cursive was displayed, clear as day.

Marinette was so astonished that Adrien had picked up on her signature all on his own that she could do nothing but gape at him. He straightened the sketches again, laying them down on the coffee table as well before he gave her his full attention, raising golden eyebrows.

“So?”

Marinette sighed. She didn’t feel like she owed Adrien any explanation—this was her decision, and hers alone—but the fact that he knew immediately that she had done the sketches disarmed her, and her defenses were down. She pressed her lips together, her nose wrinkling briefly before she decided to give in.

“Symone found my sketchbook while I was…out running an errand for her.”

Marinette swallowed at the memory of that day. Master Fu had been released from the hospital at last, but he was recovering with some relatives for the time being, and since his usual place of residence had yet to be repaired, she hadn’t seen him since. The Miraculous chest was safe—she had specially crafted a box to hold it, much like the one that locked her diary away from the world—but the sooner she could return it to the rightful guardian, the better she would feel.

Shaking herself from the memories and fears, Marinette continued.

“She saw what I was working on and basically gave me an ultimatum—I either had to make her new winter line for her…or quit.”

Adrien said nothing. He merely watched her. In his gaze, Marinette sensed judgement, and though she knew it would do no good, her temper flared.

“What?” She demanded, eyes flashing at him. “Did you expect me to just give up on my dreams just because someone else wants to use my work?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Adrien said, his eyebrows slightly raised.

“You were thinking things,” Marinette accused. His lips twitched.

“I’m always thinking. That doesn’t necessarily mean it was anything about you.”

Marinette gave him a look so dry that Adrien’s professional mask broke, and he snickered at her.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he requested, hiding his grin behind the back of his hand, his eyes warming. “Honestly, Mari, I’m not judging you. I think it’s admirable of you, working so hard for your dreams.”

“But?” Marinette prompted, refusing to be softened by his laughter…even if it _did_ make him look adorable…

Adrien sobered himself for the serious conversation about to take place.

“But you seem exhausted,” he said. “And I was just wondering whether or not you’d feel like it’s worth it, in the end.”

“Of course it will be,” Marinette replied stubbornly, her lower lip jutting out. “Symone can try and claim credit all she wants—it’s still _my_ name on the clothes. If anything, _I’m_ using _her_ —her boutique is the epitome of haute couture right now. As long as I go along with her and do what she says, my success is as good as guaranteed.”

“…Are you sure about that?” Adrien asked, his tone suggesting that he was trying to be as delicate as possible. Marinette frowned at this.

“What?” She asked. Adrien gave a slight shrug, his jaw tensing.

“Well—you know what, never mind. It’s not really—”

“ _What?_ ” Marinette insisted. Adrien pursed his lips.

“You’re not going to like hearing it.”

Marinette lifted her chin.

“Tell me anyway,” she said, eyes locked on him. “There’s a difference between being brutal and being honest, Adrien. And the biggest difference of all is that I actually respect people who give me the latter.”

Adrien said nothing for a moment. His eyes were intent on her face, searching for something. Marinette gazed back at him, obstinate, waiting.

Finally, his lips parted.

“If you go along with Symone now,” he said, his low voice firm, “you’re never going to escape her. Even if it is your name on the clothes…they’re always going to be associated with Symone. You’ll never be known for your own brand—it’ll always be _Tres Bien_ Boutique that people talk about. Even if you start your own line, your style will be seen as a copy of Symone’s, because she started displaying such fashion first.”

Adrien frowned.

“This could make you, Marinette…but in the end, it’ll ruin you, too.”

Marinette stared at Adrien, her lips slightly parted in surprise.

How did she not even _think_ of that before now? How could she have been so blind?

To give Symone her designs might as well be giving her Marinette’s talent as well; she might as well be an employee of _Tres Bien_ Boutique for the rest of her life.

Because Adrien was right—it would only be Symone’s boutique that people talked about, long after Marinette herself was gone from it.

She had handed Symone her future on a silver platter, wrapped in a neat little blood, sweat, and tearstained bow.

Marinette came back to herself when Adrien rested something across her limp hands—her sketchbook.

“I like the Chat Noir design,” he told her, a corner of his mouth quirking. “You really have something here. I’d like to see more of it.” His face grew serious. “But not if it’s going to show up in Symone’s boutique in the near future. I’ll accept Marinette Dupain-Cheng originals only.”

Funny how a Chat Noir design Marinette almost hadn’t made ended up gaining her Adrien Agreste’s approval. Wasn’t life just ridiculous?

Marinette gave Adrien a trembling smile. He returned it, his eyes warming.

“Mr. Agreste,” chirped his intercom, drawing attention from the both of them, “your next appointment is here to see you.”

“That’s my cue,” Marinette sighed, clutching her sketchbook as she got to her feet. “Thank you for your input, Mr. Agreste.”

Adrien gave a soft snort.

“My pleasure, Miss Dupain-Cheng.” He gave a mock bow that bordered on ridiculous, and Marinette rolled her eyes. Turning on her heel, she marched out of the seating area, heading for the elevator. On her way, she passed a coat rack, on which hung a trendy black trench coat…and an eggshell blue scarf…

Marinette paused, staring at the scarf.

He still had it? After all this time?

“Yes?” Adrien’s voice sounded from behind her. Marinette quickly glanced back, finding him next to his desk, a hand idle on his intercom. Ready to move on to the next appointment.

“Nothing,” Marinette replied idly. Reaching out, she ran a familiar hand down the scarf, nearly scoffing at the silly girl from the past who had hoped with all her might that Adrien Agreste would finally notice her after accepting this carefully crafted gift, with love in every stitch…

Marinette’s fingertips traced over the particular stitching she could feel just at the end of one of the edges of the scarf, outlining her own name. Smiling a little to herself, Marinette let the scarf go, turning once more to Adrien with a nod.

“Mr. Agreste.”

“Miss Dupain-Cheng,” he returned once more, and she pretended not to see the curious look he gave her as she walked away, a secret smile playing across her face.

Let him realize on his own, if he was clever enough to find her signature in her sketches. Now that Marinette knew what a sharp eye he possessed, she was leaving it up to him.

If he hadn’t figured out the secret of the scarf by now, she certainly wasn’t going to tell him.

 

* * *

 

A shadow fell over her desk. Marinette felt her jaw tighten automatically, glancing up to find Felix standing there. Of course.

“What now?” She snapped at him, in no mood to pretend to be polite, though she knew perfectly well her ire was misplaced. Felix raised a pale eyebrow, but did not comment on her attitude.

“Symone wants to see you,” he replied.

“So what else is new?” Marinette huffed, getting up from her desk and trudging along behind Felix to Symone’s office. It was a cozy little office, usually, with soft seating and lights. Today, however, it was an explosion of paper, copies of Marinette’s sketches deformed with writing, cut-outs and edits. There was a whiteboard behind Symone’s desk, where the originals of Marinette’s hard work hung, next to more writing and cross-outs and arrows drawn on the board. Her savaged sketchbook was propped up against the whiteboard, mocking her. Symone sat behind her desk, her ankles crossed on a corner without sketches obscuring it, pushing the end of a pastry into her mouth. Seeing her looking so relaxed after Marinette had been tearing her hair out for the past week left Marinette grinding her teeth against the abuse she wanted to hurl at her boss.

“Ah, Marinette,” she said as Felix moved to stand by the open door, out of the way. “Good that you’re here—I just realized you have one more change to make before we start really producing anything.”

‘We’. _Ha._

“Yes?” Marinette asked in the most polite voice she could muster. Consequently, the word was pushed through her teeth, so it didn’t come across as polite at all, but Symone didn’t seem to register or care.

“It’s these designs on the clothes,” Symone continued, reaching for another pastry as she waved at the board behind her, at the hung sketches. “The ones I’ve circled. I’ll need you to remove them.”

Marinette stared blankly at the whiteboard.

The designs Symone wanted removed were the designs in which Marinette’s signature was buried, claiming the clothes as her creation.

Her worst nightmare had come to fruition: Symone wanted Marinette’s claim on her own work to vanish.

Marinette swallowed, her tongue suddenly dry, her eyes too wet. But most alarming of all was the swelling indignation she could feel rising in her chest, clawing to be free, as if she would breathe fire at any moment.

She didn’t bother to ask why—Symone didn’t give a reason, but Marinette was _sure_ that she had discovered the secret, somehow. The fact that she was asking her— _actually fucking asking her—_ to get rid of her own signature on her _own work_ was truly the final straw, the one straw too many, that snapped the camel clean in half.

“No.” Marinette answered. Symone paused, a mini blueberry muffin halfway to her mouth. She set it down carefully in her usual box of pastries and turned, giving Marinette an appraising look.

“I beg your pardon?” She asked, her tone indicating that, clearly, she must have heard wrong—if Marinette wanted to keep her job, then _certainly_ the answer she _meant_ was ‘yes’.

“I don’t think you misheard me, Symone,” Marinette said, impressively calm, though the rage was still building, the dam holding it back creaking with the strain. “In fact, I’m pretty sure you just heard me tell you ‘no’.”

The chatter outside Symone’s office began to die down; everyone was clearly listening in. Idly, Marinette wondered if Felix had left the door open behind them on purpose.

Symone stood up, towering over Marinette.

“Marinette,” she said slowly, smiling the smile that suggested she had poison fangs hidden just behind her lips, “I thought we had come to an agreement about this.”

“I changed my mind,” Marinette replied, refusing to be intimidated. “I won’t remove those designs, because these clothes are _mine._ I’ve been running myself ragged for this impromptu winter line you wanted done after _stealing_ my work. Yes,” she raised her voice as Symone opened her mouth to retort, “no matter what you say, you’re stealing. _Especially_ in trying to erase my mark from designs _I_ made.”

“What does it matter, whose name is on the clothes?” Symone huffed, fluttering a hand, as if the issue truly was of little importance. Marinette raised her eyebrows.

“You clearly thought it mattered enough to try and get me to take my signature off them,” she reminded Symone coldly. It was dead silent in the outer office now, something Symone seemed to register. Unappreciative of being shown up in her own office, in front of her employees, she swelled to her full height, dark eyes flashing at Marinette.

“I already told you that this is a once in a lifetime chance for you,” she hissed; she clearly believed Marinette was being ungrateful. “Your designs were merely _passable_ before my changes.”

“Oh yeah? Then why are you working so hard to take _all_ of the credit?” Marinette demanded, her hands on her hips as she glared up at Symone. “Do you honestly think I’m that stupid?”

“You’re certainly not being smart, with the way you’re behaving,” Symone shot back coldly, folding her arms. Marinette noticed how her nails pierced the fabric of her shirt; she was losing her composure. “I think someone needs to be reminded of where they stand.”

“I know where I stand just fine, thank you very much,” Marinette snapped, rounding Symone’s desk to go toe to toe with her, jabbing a finger at the whiteboard. “These are _my_ designs, designs you had _no right_ trying to pilfer in the first place. The only reason I went along with it in the first place was because I thought that as long as people knew that _I_ actually designed the clothes, then things would turn out fine, but you know what? I don’t want all the hard work _I_ put in for these clothes tainted by _your_ boutique. So I’m taking them back.”

“If you _touch_ those sketches—!”

Symone wasn’t given the chance to finish as Marinette ripped her original sketches down from the whiteboard, snatched her sketchbook up, and stomped out of the office. Wide eyes watched her as she marched back to her desk, the telltale rapid click of heels behind her suggesting that Symone was less than happy with her right now.

“That’s it!” She shrieked as Marinette took one look at her desk, realized there was nothing worth salvaging from it, and turned away immediately, heading for the door. “You take _one step_ out that door with those designs, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and you’re _fired_!!!”

Marinette paused, turning slowly to look at Symone. She was breathing heavily, her bun coming undone…looking very much like she did the day Chloe Bourgeois had gotten the drop on her and stolen _her_ designs. Marinette would have thought that Symone would refrain from repeating such a heinous crime, after knowing how it felt…needless to say, she was disappointed in the woman she had once admired. All she saw now was an angry harpy, an akuma surely on the horizon, searching her out to take advantage of her rage once again…

But that was Ladybug’s problem.

For now, Marinette just deadpanned Symone a look.

“So put my final check in the mail, Patchwork,” she shot at her, vindictive pleasure surging through her at the look on Symone’s face, like she had been slapped.

Smirking to herself, Marinette clutched her reclaimed sketchbook to her, pushing the door open and running through the boutique, a wide grin on her face as she headed for the sunlight she could see just outside the front door…

Suddenly, she was out. The air was fresh, if not a little chilly, and the sun shined merrily, warming her skin.

The taste of freedom was sweet indeed.

 

* * *

 

Marinette’s head was throbbing.

She knew it was a mistake to tell Alya immediately after she quit her job, because then her best friend had insisted on an impromptu “MARINETTE QUIT, BITCHES!” celebration, which consisted of her ordering her, Marinette and Nino shots until they all felt sick and had to call a cab to get them home safely.

Marinette had almost said “fuck it” and gone back to bed when her alarm rang this morning, but then she remembered she had to contend with both a rogue cat _and_ an akuma the next time Hawk Moth 2.0 reared his ugly head. She coaxed herself out of bed with a groan, ushered an equally-sleepy Tikki into the breast pocket of her track suit, grabbed her water bottle and her keys, and she was out jogging.

Thanks to her hangover, it took her a minute to spot the tall figure approaching through the fog, and she nearly ran headfirst into Adrien Agreste once again.

“Agh!” She yelped once she finally spotted him, skidding to a stop and scowling at him. He smirked at her in return. “ _Stop_ that!”

“Hello to you, too,” he greeted, indecently cheerful, in Marinette’s opinion. She grunted, jogging past him when the crosswalk flashed green; he kept pace with her easily. Despite this being only the second time she had run into him while on her run, the silence between them was peaceful, easy. It would surprise Marinette more if she wasn’t so distracted by the construction work wreaking havoc in her head.

“Heard you quit yesterday,” Adrien said, apropos of nothing. Marinette frowned.

“I didn’t realize you and Symone kept such regular contact with each other,” she huffed.

“I didn’t say anything about Symone.”

“How else would you know? How many people at _Tres Bien_ are you in contact with?”

Adrien deigned not to answer this question.

“You look like hell,” he said idly.

“Fuck off,” Marinette grumbled, and Adrien snickered.

“Such language, Mari. I’m tempted to tell Sabine on you.”

“Oh, is that why you’re here? You want to see my mom again?”

“I wouldn’t mind it,” Adrien answered, sounding completely honest. Marinette glanced over to find a wicked smirk spreading across his face. She frowned at the sight, mostly because it was annoying…but partially because, with his hair tied back into that bun, Adrien reminded her eerily of someone else… “I also wouldn’t mind hearing more embarrassing stories about little Mari.”

Marinette scowled.

“You are hereby banned from my parents’ bakery,” she announced, pushing herself to go faster, annoyed at Adrien’s laughter, mostly because it was loud and made her head throb more violently. Inwardly, she believed Adrien could probably use a laugh every now and then…though she didn’t appreciate it when they were at her expense.

“That’s cruel, Mari. How am I to live without your father’s amazing chocolate-filled croissants?”

“If you eat too many, you’ll get fat. Then you’ll be stuck in the unemployment line right along with me, Mr. Model.”

“Add Symone, and it’ll be a regular party,” Adrien joked. Marinette blinked, startled, skidding to an abrupt stop as she stared at him.

“What did you say?”

Adrien turned back to her, his eyebrows raised.

“What, about Symone?” He shrugged. “It’s not really important. I’ve just decided not to do business with her. Seems like an unnecessary risk, if she’s going to make a habit of exploiting her employees.” A corner of Adrien’s mouth twisted down into a frown. “That, and I really can’t afford to have her blowing up my fax machine every five minutes.”

A bit astonished, Marinette slowly shook her head. But even that was too much for her poor, throbbing temples, and so she stopped quickly.

“I can’t believe you did that,” she said to him, resuming her jog, though at a much slower pace. Adrien just shrugged again, slipping his hands into his pockets as he merely walked beside her.

“It’s not a big deal. Besides, she was still trying to use your designs.” He scowled. “She even went so far as to mark out your signature from them.”

Marinette snorted, though nothing about the situation was funny.

“Yeah. She lost her shit when I refused to do it myself. Guess she decided to carry on without me.” Marinette rolled her eyes. “I still don’t know how she figured out how to find my signature, but—”

“Oh…” Marinette glanced up to catch Adrien cringing, rubbing the back of his neck. “If she didn’t know before…then it was my fault. I e-mailed her yesterday morning before you arrived, asking why she was trying to take credit for your designs when she didn’t even mention that they were _yours._ She tried playing dumb, and so I sent her an e-mail with your signatures circled in each picture. She didn’t really have much to say after that.”

“Oh…” Well, that was one mystery solved. Briefly, she wondered if she should be annoyed…but then decided that it wasn’t worth the effort. Especially not with Adrien looking so guilty.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a problem. If anything, you helped give me the courage to leave a bad situation.” Marinette smiled up at him. “Thanks for your honesty, by the way.”

Adrien paused, merely staring at her. Her smile faded.

“What?”

“Ah…nothing.” He turned away from her, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand. “You just…you kind of remind me of someone.”

The words sounded more ominous than they should.

Marinette decided not to pursue the subject.

At the crosswalk just before _Boulangerie Patisserie_ , Marinette’s and Adrien’s heads swiveled automatically, glancing at the deserted school of Francois Dupont. No one would be there that early, not even the teachers…but seeing it desolate like that brought about a nostalgic ache to Marinette.

Something about the school seemed to jog something in Adrien as well.

“Oh, right.” After a start, he dug into his pocket, retrieving a slim box and handing it to her. “This is for you.”

Marinette blinked at the box, taken aback.

“What’s this for?”

Adrien merely shrugged.

“Just thought it was something you could use,” he said mysteriously.

Curiosity piqued, Marinette accepted the box. Despite herself, her excitement grew as she slipped the top of the box off, revealing…

“A pen?” The disappointment was obvious in her tone. She immediately felt bad, because it was a pretty nice pen: fountain-type, in her favorite shade of pink. In black letters on the cap, words were scrawled: PROPERTY OF MARINETTE DUPAIN-CHENG.

Marinette blinked, squinting at the pen. Her name was written in her own handwriting.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Adrien asked, looking amused as Marinette looked up at him in awe. “I put out the poor man I commissioned this pen from, wanting a custom color and custom writing _and_ making it a rush job, but I wanted to get it to you as soon as I could.”

“Well…thank you,” she said, still startled by the unexpected gift. She carefully replaced the top of the box, trying to regain herself. “Something I needed, huh?”

“Yeah. It’ll be handy for when you sign your name on things other than clothes.”

Adrien tugged at something at his throat. Marinette could just make out a blue knot tied closed under his track jacket. She glanced up to his face…and his eyes were knowing.

“Like a card, maybe,” he suggested with the most delicate inflection in his tone, raising an eyebrow. The crosswalk light they waited at turned green, and Adrien jogged ahead of her, leaving Marinette staring after him for a moment. Stunned, she glanced down at the box, where her brand new, custom-made pen was now resting.

Did Adrien Agreste rush the making of this pen…just to _chide_ her for never admitting that she had made the scarf he still wore to this day? Of all the cheeky things to do—

“Oh, hello again, Adrien!” Marinette abruptly heard her mother call as the door to the bakery opened. “It’s nice to see you!”

“Hey, Sabine,” Marinette heard Adrien greet, as if he and her mother were old friends already. He glanced over at her as he headed in, trouble promised in his expression. “So, I was wondering: what other stories do you have about Mari? Was she a mischievous kid?”

Did he _just_ —

Sabine laughed, the sound carrying all the way out to a suddenly beet red Marinette.

“Oh, are you kidding? Pull up a chair, this could take a while.”

Snapping back to herself, Marinette tore across the street, cursing fluently under her breath.

“MAMA! NO!”

Damn that devil wearing an angel’s face! Damn him straight back to the pit where he was spawned!

Marinette was going to get him back for this if it was the last thing she would ever do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *BLASTS MULTIPLE AIR HORNS IN SYMONE'S DIRECTION*
> 
> Adrien, Marinette, your superhero personas are showing. XP
> 
> And Alya is definitely me from a past life, I swear to god. XD
> 
> More action-y stuff will be taking place in the next chapter! Just had to clean house a bit. >:3
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	8. Ruined

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy July 4th, America!
> 
> Despite the holiday, since I live in Japan, I had work, so I was able to finish off this...wall of text.
> 
> *Sighs* What is my life?
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

These akuma and their themes were getting more and more ridiculous by the day.

It was like Hawk Moth’s successor wasn’t even _trying._

“Seriously?!” Ladybug called out in frustration, dodging what looked like a painful assortment of nuts, bolts and cogs. “Why a _typewriter_?! Who even uses those anymore?!”

“Show some respect!” The akuma known as Typeface scolded as he typed out magic words that came to life, stretching to impossible sizes to crush—literally, the word “CRUSH” was actually being used—Ladybug. She grit her teeth and continued to dodge as Typeface sent out synonyms to join “CRUSH”—“SMASH”, “FLATTEN”, and her least favorite, “SQUISH”, to name a few. “The typewriter was here _long_ before your newfangled computer-type things, and it’ll be here _long_ after I’ve destroyed them all, too! Hahahahaha!”

“Seems we’re dealing with a senior citizen,” called a voice from above, and Ladybug groaned as she avoided another maiming word. It really did no good to just hope that he wouldn’t show up, did it?

Ducking under a bench for momentary cover, she glowered up at the silhouette of a rogue cat-man perched on top of a nearby streetlight. He met her gaze, flashing sharp teeth as he grinned.

“He’s got one foot in the grave already,” he reasoned, rolling his shoulders and raising a clawed hand. “Surely you won’t protest if I take care of this myself—”

“NO!” Ladybug shrieked, darting out from under the bench just before it exploded upon making contact with the word “BOOM”. “Don’t you _touch_ him!”

“Me- _wow_ , you’re stubborn,” Chat Noir sighed, hopping rapidly across streetlights as Ladybug followed him, doing her best to avoid more attacks from Typeface. “So what you’re saying is, you _want_ to be squashed like a bug?”

Growling under her breath, Ladybug hooked her yo-yo across Chat Noir’s frame and yanked him down to ground level, sparing not a care for the pained yowl that escaped him once he hit the ground. She ducked into a nearby alley, tugging him along behind her by his ankles.

“ _Look_ ,” she began heatedly, dropping his ankles and standing over him, speaking through her gritted teeth, “I don’t know how long this new attitude of yours is going to last, but I’m getting _really_ sick of it!”

Chat Noir gave her a dry look, and then maneuvered so fast that it took Ladybug by surprise—with a swipe of his legs, she was suddenly falling, and then _he_ was hovering over _her_ , weight settled against her, his clawed hands on either side of her head. He leaned over her, his expression the most serious she had ever seen it. Without meaning to, Ladybug gulped.

“You seem to think this is just some rebellious phase I’m going through,” he noted, cat’s gaze shrewd. “What, you think I’m just raging against the system? Irritating Mommy with misbehavior?”

“If I actually believed you’d become a monster in your own way, I would cry,” Ladybug replied, angry at him, at her vulnerability when it came to him, at this whole situation, really. “No matter what you say, I refuse to believe this is really you, Chat Noir.”

Chat Noir’s pupils narrowed.

“Have you ever seen a ‘victim’ just before they’re akumatized?” He questioned Ladybug. Without waiting for an answer, he continued. “I have. They _willingly_ accept Hawk Moth’s help. How does that make them innocent?”

Ladybug felt a chill run down her spine, Alya’s voice haunting her from far away…

 _“…You wouldn’t know this, since you’ve never been akumatized yourself, Marinette…but when the akuma possesses you, and you hear Hawk Moth’s voice in your head…he actually gives you a choice:_ power _, in return for a favor—the Miraculous of Paris’ superheroes. I think…I think any of us are free to say no, if our will is strong enough. But the temptation… It’s hard to resist. Very hard.”_

Ladybug shook her head fiercely. Too many voices in her head—she needed to focus!

“Hawk Moth specializes in manipulating negative feelings! The victims aren’t to blame—they’re not thinking straight when they’re possessed!” She insisted stubbornly, struggling under him, but he pinned her wrists down, his gaze heating.

“You sure about that?” He challenged her, “you sure they just don’t want a little bit of power in accepting Hawk Moth’s help? Enough power to destroy me, you…everything?”

Ladybug grit her teeth, struggling against him harder than ever, her legs beginning to slip under him.

“Even so, how are you, as you are now, different from them?” She spat at him with no small amount of venom. The accusation seemed to take Chat Noir by surprise; he blinked, staring down at her. Ladybug took full advantage of his distraction: wedging one of her feet in between their bodies, she kicked hard, launching Chat Noir off her, and back out into the street where Typeface lay in wait. Despite herself, Ladybug cringed when the word “PUNCH” slammed into Chat Noir’s face, knocking him back head over heels until he flopped down onto his front.

“OW! You did that on purpose!” He accused Ladybug as he pushed himself to sit up, clutching at his nose, which now appeared to be bleeding. As much as part of her might have wanted to apologize and claim it was an accident, Ladybug ignored him, for now he was Typeface’s new target, and now it was _he_ who had to focus on dodging while Ladybug summoned her Lucky Charm.

Out of her capricious charm popped a roll of spotted typing paper.

“Seriously?” She grumbled, frantically glancing around, wondering how on earth she was supposed to use _this_ , other than giving Typeface more fuel. All she could spot was the typewriter the akuma was using to cause trouble, and the roll she held in her hands. Deciding to wing it, Ladybug ran at the akuma, sliding to avoid the harming words he was typing out at rapid speed—so rapid, in fact, that before he knew it, his typewriter gave a “ker-chunk!” of protest; it was out of paper.

As he growled over the indecency of it all, Ladybug tossed the spotted typing paper at him.

“Catch!”

“Oh…thank you, young lady,” the akuma said, abruptly docile as he smiled at her and set down his typewriter, focusing on changing the roll. “Kids nowadays need to learn how to respect their elders…but you seem to have a good head on your shoulders. Parents must’ve raised you right…it’s hard to find quality parenting nowadays…see, back in _my_ day—”

As he rambled and fiddled with his typewriter, setting the used up roll aside, Ladybug took note of the color of the roll—it was black.

Ladybug blinked in surprise. She would have bet her whole last paycheck that the typewriter itself was the possessed item…but then she remembered that without paper to type words on, the typewriter itself was quite useless. Before Typeface could realize what was happening, Ladybug snatched up the discarded roll and, forgetting in the heat of the moment that she should be wary about breaking the possessed items on her own, snapped the roll over her knee.

To her astonishment, it went quietly, and no screaming akuma popped out—it was just a regular one, which enabled her to easily catch and purify it. Tossing the spotted typing paper into the sky, Ladybug called on her restorative powers, and Paris was put back together once more.

The man under Typeface’s mask was indeed an elderly gentleman, and he blinked in surprise once he took note of his surroundings.

“What? But…this isn’t the library…” he grumbled, startling when Ladybug approached him. “Where am I? What happened?”

“You were akumatized, sir,” Ladybug said gently, patting his back. “But everything’s all right now.”

The old man’s face went pale.

“You mean…I was made into one of those…those _things_?!” The old man stumbled to his feet in horror, startling Ladybug. “No! It can’t be true! I can’t have been made into a monster! You have the wrong man, I tell you!”

“Sir—” Ladybug began, unnerved by such behavior. Never had she encountered a victim that denied being a victim in the first place…

The telltale flashes of cameras and hurried footsteps let her know that reporters were on the way, and the old man she was trying to comfort somehow turned even paler.

“I can’t let them see me!” He whispered, horrified. He stumbled back a few steps, his knees seeming like they were threatening to lock up on him. “If I’m caught here, I’ll be ruined!”

“Wha—sir, you won’t be—”

“Ladybug! Ladybug! Is this the man who was terrorizing Paris tonight?” Called a reporter that was first on the scene. Ladybug whirled, but it was too late—she and the most recent akumatized victim were surrounded by reporters and flashing cameras.

“Terrorizing?” Ladybug quoted with a frown, “that’s sort of a strong—”

“Ladybug, how long are you going to let these thugs have the run of Paris before something is done about it?” Another reporter demanded, pushing a microphone into her face.

“Now wait just one minute—” Ladybug protested, beginning to get irritated now.

“Ladybug, this akuma problem is getting worse! You’re supposed to be Paris’ protector! How could you leave the city in such constant danger?”

“I can’t _make_ the akuma stop!” Ladybug burst out, losing her temper at the ridiculous attitude she was suddenly facing. “That’s _Hawk Moth_ ’s doing!”

“And why is it we’re dealing with another Hawk Moth in the first place, Ladybug?” Nadja Chamack asked, and Ladybug inwardly resolved to _never_ babysit Manon again…or she wouldn’t, if Manon wasn’t too old to be babysat anymore. “We thought you took care of the villain known as Hawk Moth seven years ago. Was it possible you made a mistake?”

“There was _no mistake_ ,” Ladybug insisted, ignoring the beeping of her Miraculous for the time being. “The Butterfly Miraculous was stolen once again, that’s all.”

“Why was it stolen? How could you be so careless?”

Okay, this was just bullshit. Why was _she_ the only one in the hot seat?

“Ask _him,_ ” she growled, jabbing a thumb up above her, where she had felt the shadow of Chat Noir settle over her just a minute ago. The reporters and cameras looked up to the careless looking cat-man perched on top of the streetlight, who let one leg dangle from where he was sitting, resting his chin in his palm, and his elbow on his bent knee. His bloody nose had cleared up, since the damage had been caused by the akuma, and then undone by her restorative powers. Ladybug wished it would have stuck around, just to take his smug attitude down a peg or two.

“It’s true,” he allowed with a shrug. “Someone got the jump on me and snatched the pretty little Butterfly Miraculous right from under my nose. But you shouldn’t be so worried—we’re doing everything we can to take care of the problem.”

“You mean _Ladybug’s_ doing all she can,” piped up a familiar voice, and a rush of warmth rushed through Ladybug at the sight of Alya Cesaire, who had barged her way to the front of the reporter queue and was scowling up at Chat Noir, her phone’s camera trained on him. “All _you’ve_ been doing is trying to hurt innocent folks!”

Chat Noir’s eyes glittered dangerously.

“‘Innocent’, huh? It figures you would take that viewpoint…Lady Wi-Fi.”

Alya’s mouth opened in outrage, and Ladybug had a good mind to send her yo-yo into Chat Noir’s face to re-break his nose, but there was another beep from both of their Miraculous, and Chat Noir got to his feet.

“Well, hate to run, but this cat’s got a hot date with a nap that _cannot_ be missed. _A beientot_ ,” he bade, giving a salute before he jumped to the next streetlight, and the next, taking off into the night. Ladybug, for her part, ushered the elderly gentleman who had been hiding behind her into her grip, sending out her yo-yo to the nearest rooftop. The reporters shot more insulting questions at her back, but Ladybug ignored them, swinging away to drop the poor old man off at his home before she raced back to her own place, reaching her balcony just as her transformation broke.

“What the _hell?!_ ” Marinette protested, angrily throwing her balcony doors open and depositing a tired Tikki onto the pillow Marinette had made especially for her a few years ago. “The _nerve_ of those reporters! _Especially_ Ms. Chamack! What the hell is wrong with everybody?! Don’t they realize that blaming the victim won’t get us anywhere?! Where is this sudden attitude coming from?!

“Chat Noir,” Marinette answered herself, punching a fist into her free hand. “ _He’s_ the cause of all this sudden fear. We _never_ had this problem seven years ago—everyone seemed to understand then, but now—”

“People are scared because it’s human nature, Marinette,” Tikki quietly reminded her Chosen, and Marinette gave a guilty jolt, hastening over to the cookie stash in her room for Tikki. She handed the kwami an opened pack, and Tikki gratefully bit into a cookie before continuing. “We haven’t had this kind of trouble in seven years. Everything was peaceful, and so people grew complacent. Having their lives suddenly disrupted again like this, after seven years of peace, couldn’t have been easy.”

“Well, maybe,” Marinette relented unwillingly, still frowning as she crossed her arms and resumed her pacing. “But that still doesn’t excuse this kind of behavior. Did you see that man tonight? He was _terrified_ of being found out as the latest akuma. I…I’ve never seen that before. And I’ve _certainly_ never been accused of not doing my _job_ before. If anything, _I_ should be the one complaining about being dragged back to duty like this!”

Frustrated, Marinette aimed a kick at her sewing mannequin, but rather than making her feel better, it just sent a sharp pain through her pinky toe. Hissing and growling in frustration, Marinette made herself sit down, rubbing at her abused toe with a grimace.

“I hate this. Those accusations were so ridiculous…but I still feel like a failure.”

“You’re not the first Ladybug to deal with this kind of controversy, Marinette,” Tikki assured her, munching on her cookie. “Plenty of Ladybugs before you have had to deal with the public working against them. Jeanne d’Arc, for example, was sentenced by the people she had worked so hard to protect to be burned at the stake.”

Marinette grimaced at the reminder.

“Yeah, well, I’m more than glad witch burnings are out of style now.” She huffed, lowering her foot to the floor and folding her hands in her lap, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. “…You know what’s _really_ pathetic, though? I could deal with all of it—the stupid questions, the ignorant fear of akuma victims—none of that would bother me as much as it does, if only…”

No, she couldn’t say it. She felt ashamed just _thinking_ it. Even if she was certain Tikki would understand, to say it out loud…

Marinette glanced over at her kwami, who was indeed regarding her with knowing indigo eyes.

“If only Chat Noir was still on your side,” she finished for her Chosen with a nod. “I understand, Marinette.”

Marinette let out a breath.

“It’s pathetic, right? To miss him, even though he’s this way now?”

“It’s not,” Tikki disagreed. “You’re meant to be partners, you and Chat Noir. To miss him is natural.”

Letting out a sigh, Marinette flopped back on her bed, staring up at her ceiling in dejection. This sucked—she didn’t _want_ to miss the damn stray. He was cruel and thoughtless now, eager to slash through the problem of akuma attacks rather than solve the actual issue of possession. And now, his attitude was taking hold of Paris, making the citizens panic, apparently eager to use the victims as scapegoats instead of blame the actual villain…the villain they still knew nothing about, because he was still shrouded in shadow, apparently quite content to let chaos reign instead of making his intentions clear…and what _did_ he want, anyway? Why was he doing this? Was he interested in the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous at all? Or—and Marinette hesitated to ponder this, because it made her spine shiver—was he just happy making their lives difficult for the hell of it?

Marinette turned to the side, peering curiously at her kwami.

“Hey, Tikki? Remember when you told me that you and Chat Noir’s kwami are…connected?”

“Because we’re two halves of the same whole,” Tikki added, nodding as she reached for another cookie.

“Right. Is that…still true? Even though Chat Noir’s…different, can you still sense his kwami?”

“I can,” said Tikki, “just because Chat Noir’s different, it doesn’t mean that my connection with Plagg has been diminished. We’ve been connected since we first came to be—no matter who Ladybug and Chat Noir are, that will never stop being true.”

“Right,” Marinette said again, though she didn’t quite comprehend such an ancient connection. Her brow puckering, she added, “so, since you two are still connected…is there a way you could get a message to him? To get him to tell his Chosen to knock it off?”

Tikki gave Marinette an amused look.

“That isn’t quite how it works, Marinette. Just as I can sense him, he can sense me, and that helps guide Ladybug and Chat Noir together when it’s necessary, nothing more.” She chewed on her new cookie thoughtfully. “Besides, kwami can only influence their Chosen to a certain degree—if it were possible for Plagg to tell his Chosen what to do, then poor Nooroo wouldn’t be at the hands of someone who would use his powers for evil once again.”

“Oh, right.” Marinette huffed, feeling pity well within her for the kwami of the Butterfly Miraculous, the kwami she had never gotten to meet before Chat Noir swiped said Miraculous and proceeded to disappear from her life for seven long years…

Poor Nooroo. The abused kwami deserved a lot better.

And Marinette was going to make it up to him if it was the last thing she ever did.

Sitting back up, Marinette eyed the time. A quarter to midnight. Damn it.

“I’d better get ready for bed,” she sighed, dragging her suddenly tired form off the bed to trail to the bathroom. “I have a meeting with Desiree in the morning to discuss the progress of my spring line.”

“Well, at least it means you don’t have to get up as early for class,” Tikki called after Marinette, ever the optimist. And Marinette smiled at that.

Even when she was at her lowest, she could always count on Tikki to be by her side. Really, Marinette couldn’t have asked for a more supportive fairy in her endeavor to keep Paris safe from supervillains.

Now if only Plagg and Nooroo could be given the same courtesy from their Chosen partners…

 

* * *

 

Desiree wasn’t hard to spot in the little café: she drew the eyes of everyone in the room effortlessly, auburn hair piled on top of her head and waving gently down to her shoulders, bronze skin complimented by the low lighting and November sunlight filtering in through the window she sat beside. She had the kind of figure that was constantly advertised by the fashion industry, a perfect hourglass, accentuated by the red blouse and skinny jeans Marinette could see she was wearing, calf-high black boots coming into view as she crossed her legs and waved Marinette over with a smile. Honestly, she was the kind of woman Marinette might be intimidated by, if she wasn’t so damn down-to-earth, thus making it difficult to hate her.

“Morning, babe,” Desiree greeted with a wink as Marinette sat down. “I’m glad to see you looking a little more rested than usual.”

Marinette cringed. “Have I been looking that bad?”

“No, Mari-doll, of course not. You never look anything short of flawless,” Desiree complimented, causing Marinette to flush. “I’ve just been noticing the sluggish way you’ve been walking around campus. Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Things are fine now, since I quit my internship.”

Desiree raised an arched eyebrow, her brown eyes widening.

“Oooh. And you were so excited when you started! What happened there?”

Marinette scowled, her lower lip jutting out.

“A shit storm, basically. My boss wanted to use the designs I’ve been working on for my spring line, and she made me do so much work that one day I just said enough was enough and quit. And honestly, I’ve been feeling so free ever since.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re happy, hun,” Desiree said, before her brow puckered a bit, wrinkling her otherwise statuesque beauty with concern. “But are you going to be okay financially?”

Ah. Honestly, Marinette was trying not to think about it. She had enough cash saved up to be set for a few months, but she couldn’t deny that her current lack of a steady income was…troubling. Frowning quietly to herself, Marinette simply managed a shrug.

“I’ll figure something out.” She always did, after all.

Desiree continued to look worried for one second more before her expression cleared, and she smiled.

“If you say so, sweetheart. But if you need someone to talk to, just let me know. I know I’m your teacher and all that, but I’m only a few years older than you. I might be able to understand your situation better than those other fuddy-duddy grown-ups you’re forced to learn from.” She gave another wink, and Marinette muffled her giggles.

“Uh…h-hello…” said a cautious voice, and Marinette and Desiree glanced over to find a waitress standing beside them. Her nametag labeled her as “Amanda”, her face was nearly as red as her hair, and she seemed to have a hard time looking at Desiree. “U-um…c-can I get you ladies anything…?”

“I’ll have a medium caffe latte,” Marinette said, glancing briefly at the menu and picking the first item that her eyes landed on; honestly, she had had enough of ordering coffee at this point, but it was a little more soothing, knowing that this coffee was for her instead of a domineering boss.

“Mmm, you have excellent taste, darling,” Desiree teased with another wink Marinette’s way. “I’ll have the same.”

Marinette couldn’t help but note the way Amanda’s face inexplicably fell as she collected their menus.

“I’ll…I’ll be right back with your order,” she promised, clutching the menus to her chest as she moved away. Marinette’s eyes trailed her curiously. Was she all right…?

Abruptly, something else captured Marinette’s attention: a pair of ice blue eyes aimed right at her.

Marinette felt her mouth pop open, blinking as Felix stared at her from across the room, a coffee container held in his hands. He looked like he had paused in the middle of leaving, choosing to stare at her. Something about his gaze made her uncomfortable, but she stared back, her frown challenging. What was he looking at?

Felix did nothing else to indicate that he knew her; he pulled his gaze from her and proceeded on his way, out into the frostiness of the November weather. Marinette scowled after him, irritated. What the hell was that? It so figured that she would see him in this café, didn’t it? It wasn’t the first time she had seen him randomly when she was out and about since quitting _Tres Bien_ Boutique _…_ she wondered if Symone was secretly keeping tabs on her, sending Felix to tail her just to rattle Marinette’s nerves, though it was more juvenile than anything.

…At least, she hoped that was it. The other option—the option she had been refusing to consider too deeply simply because she had no proof—worried her more than the thought of Symone and her childish antics. Marinette might be irked at such antics, but she would take Symone being irritating any day over the possibility of Felix having something to do with Master Fu’s attack…and secretly being Chat Noir…or Hawk Moth.

“Mari-doll? Yoo-hoo? Still with me, babe?”

Marinette turned back around, clearing her throat and her head of such thoughts. Now was not the time.

“Sorry,” she apologized to Desiree with a grimace. “What were you saying?”

Desiree raised a brow in curiosity, but after a moment, seemed to decide against pursuing the question in her eyes.

“I was asking if you wouldn’t mind showing me what you’re working on. Mr. Agreste tells me you have something absolutely _fantastic_ cooking in that brilliantly creative mind of yours.”

Marinette flushed. She supposed she should be used to Desiree’s lavish compliments by now, but more often than not, she couldn’t help being embarrassed.

“Oh…well, they’re still just rough sketches…though I have more time to sew now, so hopefully I’ll be getting somewhere soon…”

Rooting through her bag and carefully avoiding the little pocket Tikki was tucked into, Marinette drew her sketchbook out, laying it on the tiny table between her and Desiree and flipping to the correct pages.

“I’ve been playing with a _Carnivale de Venezia_ theme, but instead of just masks, I’ve been using—”

“Ooh! Ladybug and Chat Noir!” Desiree squealed, eyes lighting up as she spotted the hero-inspired designs. “Marinette, this is _wonderful!_ ”

“I-it’s still a work in progress,” Marinette said modestly, only to have Desiree lay a finger across her lips.

“Shush, this is amazing work,” she chided playfully. “It’s not cocky taking pride in your work if it’s as marvelous as this, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette was about to say something, her cheeks glowing red, but a sudden little squeak next to them had both Marinette and Desiree turning again, spotting Amanda just as her tray went slipping to the floor. Her reflexes reacting quickly, Marinette managed to catch the tray, but the coffee on it couldn’t be salvaged, and the two mugs crashed to the floor, ceramic, coffee and whipped cream splattering everywhere.

The café went silent for a brief moment before an angry huff sounded from behind the counter.

“Amanda!” Barked a man in a manager’s vest, scowling at the mortified girl. “Don’t just stand there! Clean it up!”

“I-I—” Amanda stammered, her hands clutching the air where the tray was supposed to be, wide, horrified eyes on the mess before her. Marinette frowned in concern, beginning to get up, but Desiree got there first.

“Sweetie, are you all right?” She asked, laying a delicate hand on Amanda’s shoulder.

This, however, seemed to be the wrong thing to do, for Amanda squeaked, her eyes growing even wider and her face growing even redder the moment she looked at Desiree.

“I-I-I have to go!!!”

In a panic, she rushed off, pushing past other waiters and waitresses to the back. Marinette thought she could make out a mortified sob before the door slammed shut behind Amanda, leaving a stunned silence in her wake. The manager huffed, moving from behind the counter with a mop, a broom, and a bucket.

“I’m sorry, ladies,” he apologized gruffly as he began to clean up Amanda’s mess, a waiter coming forward to take the tray from Marinette. “We’ll get your new orders right away.”

“Oh dear,” Desiree sighed, laying a hand on her cheek and reluctantly resuming her seat. “She seemed like she was having a hard time…I didn’t mean to make her so uncomfortable…”

Marinette glanced between Desiree and the door behind the counter, the pieces slowly clicking together in her mind.

“Do you come here a lot, Desiree?” She wondered, drawing Desiree’s attention from her frowning reflections.

“Yes, actually. I see that girl almost three times a week…though, I have to admit, I’m afraid she isn’t very fond of me. When I come in, she does everything she can to avoid me…it’s a little disheartening really, considering she’s so beautiful and I’d like to get to know her better…”

Desiree sighed again, and Marinette bit her lip to keep from laughing. But seriously, did Desiree not realize the effect she had on Amanda? A woman so beautiful should not be so oblivious to how she stirred others…it was a little irritating, actually, since it reminded Marinette so much of a certain model that would not be named…

“Well, in any case,” Desiree began, shaking herself out of her thoughts, her eyes dropping back to Marinette’s sketchbook. “I’m very excited with the direction of your senior project. Are all five of your outfits going to be inspired by Ladybug and Chat Noir?”

“Well, I’d actually like to make other superhero-inspired designs,” Marinette corrected the assumption, her nose scrunching up as she frowned. “I’m just…having trouble gaining inspiration for other superheroes.”

“Understandable, since Ladybug and Chat Noir are so popular here.” A new waiter cautiously approached around the wet floor, laying down fresh mugs of coffee for Marinette and Desiree, who each expressed their thanks before taking sips, Marinette moving her sketchbook carefully out of the way. Desiree gave a satisfied sigh, peering at Marinette over the rim of her mug, her eyes alight with excitement. “You know, the whole reason I came to Paris was to get an up close look at its heroes.”

Marinette raised her eyebrows in interest.

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

“Oh yes—the fashion teaching gig was just a bonus,” Desiree teased with a wink. “I was in college when Ladybug and Chat Noir first surfaced, and let me tell you, I was inspired. It’s been my dream to come to France ever since, and, well…” She waved a hand elegantly, a content smile on her face. “It’s nice to live your dream, even if it becomes commonplace after a while.”

“Then it gives you the chance to find a new dream,” Marinette added, and Desiree’s smile widened.

“Exactly. So make sure you continue chasing yours as well, you hear me?” She tapped the tip of Marinette’s nose affectionately. “You’re one of the brightest students I’ve ever taught, and I look forward to seeing you shine so bright that you just accept your radiance as a fact of life.”

Marinette blushed again, but smiled, hiding it behind her sketchbook.

“Thanks, Desiree.”

“Anytime, hun. After teaching you for a couple years, I know you don’t give yourself enough credit. But I know you’ll be brilliant, if only you allow your wings to spread as far as they can go.” Desiree gave yet another wink. “And I hope to be nearby just to let you know that I told you so.”

 

* * *

 

Having her afternoons free was wonderful—for the first time in two years, Marinette felt like she could finally breathe easier, and today, she allowed herself to take her time with lunch, watching an episode or two of her favorite show in bed with Tikki before her responsibility reminded her that she should be using the time more constructively, and she sighed before sliding off her bed and heading to her work table. She was just about to get started on sewing the Chat Noir mask—for it was his mask that started this madness in the first place—when her phone suddenly vibrated across the room, the chime indicating that she had a call.

Marinette frowned as she got up, giving her phone a curious look. Alya had already called earlier to confirm their plans for their weekly gelato meeting tomorrow…who was this calling?

Marinette got her answer as soon as she came close enough to see the screen: ‘Master Fu’ was flashing across it, and she snatched the phone up a heartbeat later.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Marinette,” spoke the wizened voice on the other end of the line, and Marinette felt a pressure that had been building within her at her master’s silence ease away. But only just—the fact that he was referring to her as ‘Marinette’ meant that there were ears listening in, and he was going to be speaking very carefully with her. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him, gripping her phone with tension so obvious that Tikki flew closer to listen in. “How’s your rib healing up?”

“Quite well. I’ll be fit again in no time,” he replied, and Marinette sighed in relief with the news. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to return to work for a couple more weeks, however…and since my parlor is in no way fit for use right now, I suppose that’s for the best.”

“I’m so sorry, Master Fu—I’ve wanted to go and clean it up, but I’ve been so busy—”

“Don’t worry about it; it’s not your responsibility. I just want to know whether or not you’re taking care of the…plants I’ve entrusted to you.”

Marinette’s eyes flicked over to the innocent, unassuming box she could just see the bottom of, concealed under her bed. Wedging her phone in between her ear and her shoulder, she moved to the bed, pulling out the box and drawing out the key she kept on a necklace and on her person as much as her Miraculous. With a delicate twist, she turned the key in the lock, and the box sprang open, revealing the Miraculous chest. Marinette allowed herself a deep breath before she reached forward, carefully opening the chest.

And there they were: the Fox Miraculous and the Bee Miraculous, nestled safely where they should be. Marinette took heart from that, and closed the chest again, immediately locking the box and pushing it back under the bed, out of sight.

“Everything’s fine,” she promised Master Fu, turning to sit on her bed. “I’ve been taking good care of them.”

“As I knew you would,” said Master Fu, satisfied. “Well, I have to go for now, but I just wanted to check in, let you know that I’m fine, and that it won’t be long before you see me again. Take care, Marinette.”

“You too,” Marinette replied fervently, and she hung up just as the line went dead. She sighed, but smiled as Tikki buzzed up next to her, pixie features anxious. “He’s fine. He says he’ll see me soon.”

“Oh, good,” Tikki answered, her tiny shoulders slumping with relief. “I’ve been worried.”

“Me, too.” Marinette tapped her heel against the box she could still just feel, lurking out of sight under her bed. “I’ll feel better when I’m not constantly waking up, afraid that Hawk Moth’ll be standing over my bed with the Miraculous chest in hand…”

She shuddered. That dream had been haunting her enough that sleeping straight through the night was proving difficult, as of late. In fact, a nap sounded good right about now…

‘ _You have work to do,_ ’ Marinette’s responsible side reminded her once again, and Marinette sighed and went back to her work desk. It was true—these designs weren’t going to sew themselves, and she had to create three more off the top of her head, if she wanted to pass her senior project, let alone be considered any kind of competition for the position at Agreste Fashions…

But where was she going to come up with three more superhero-inspired outfits? There were only the two, Ladybug and Chat Noir, though Chat was stretching his superhero credibility at the moment…she could always make more designs inspired from them, she supposed, but really, she had had to shred the Ladybug winter designs she’d made for Symone, feeling like they were too tainted by that harpy’s boutique to use anymore. She just needed something fresh…a new idea that no one had seen yet…

Of their own accord, her eyes flickered back to the unassuming box underneath her bed, pondering the contents.

…Something no one had seen yet, huh…?

Feeling her inspiration beginning to flow, Marinette turned on her iPod, putting it on shuffle as she turned to a fresh page of her sketchbook, pulling her pencils and eraser towards her. Quickly, she sketched from memory the sight of the Fox Miraculous and the Bee Miraculous, as well as adding what she thought the Peacock Miraculous might look like, despite never seeing it. The Butterfly Miraculous she forewent—too many bad memories—and she had to stop sketching the Turtle Miraculous when she remembered that it, too, was currently missing. Though she felt bad, as if she was excluding Wayzz for reasons that weren’t his fault, Marinette scrubbed out the image of the Turtle Miraculous, leaving her with the Peacock, Bee, and Fox Miraculous.

The Fox Miraculous was easy enough to imagine in costume, no thanks to Volpina, but Marinette would ignore that unpleasant imagery and create a design of her own that would do the Fox Miraculous justice. And the Bee Miraculous was a gorgeous comb, something she could easily design something for, perhaps with a Chinese theme in mind. The Peacock Miraculous would be a little harder, since she had no idea what it was supposed to be—a necklace like the Fox Miraculous, perhaps? But she would worry about it another time.

Excitement filling her, Marinette set her pencil to the paper, ready to let the ideas flow—

“MARINETTE DUPAIN-CHENG!!! COME OUT HERE!!!” Roared a sudden voice outside her balcony doors, and Marinette lurched forward, accidentally snapping the tip off her pencil. She whirled around, eyes searching wildly for the sudden interruption.

There was a strangely dressed figure standing out on her balcony.

Scratch that—it was an _akuma._

And the first reaction from Marinette was to sigh.

She _so_ did not have the time for this.

Equal parts reluctant and exasperated, Marinette marched over to her balcony doors, throwing them open and folding her arms as she inspected the akuma in front of her.

“Well, I can’t really say I wasn’t expecting this sooner or later,” she admitted with a huff, squinting at the strange outfit the akuma donned: it looked like a strange mix of a chef’s outfit and a queen’s gown…if there was ever a queen’s crown in the shape of a tea cup. Perhaps in Wonderland? “Is that you under there, Symone? This is a better choice than your Patchwork outfit, at least—”

“Who’s Symone?” The akuma demanded, but then shook its head, red curls flailing through the air. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. I am Bari-Star, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the queen of all things caffeinated and delicious!”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Marinette groaned. These stupid akuma names were going to be the death of her rather than the akuma themselves…

“SILENCE! You will speak only when spoken to!” Bari-Star commanded, aiming a scepter she held threateningly at Marinette, the top of it a coffee pot with coffee sloshing around inside. The heat radiating from the scepter was alarming, and Marinette felt herself take a step back, keeping a careful gaze on the weapon. It was likely the akuma was trapped in there…but as Marinette, there wasn’t much she could do…

…That’s right. She was Marinette right now. So, if this akuma wasn’t Symone…why was she here?

“Did I…do something to offend you?” Marinette asked, frowning as she tried to remember how she could’ve possibly pissed off whoever was under that ridiculous outfit enough to seek her out at her place of residence. Who was this, and where was this axe they were attempting to grind—or coffee beans, rather—against her coming from?

The akuma’s eyes narrowed.

“Of course you’ve offended me. Why else would I seek you out at such a dingy place of residence?” Huffed Bari-Star, and Marinette scowled. Okay, ouch—no reason to bash her townhouse, which was perfectly lovely, thank you very much. “But you may be spared my wrath, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, as long as you do one thing: _stay away from Desiree._ ”

Marinette blinked.

That…she hadn’t been expecting _that._ What did Desiree have to do with…

Marinette stared at the red curls the akuma sported, and her mouth fell open in surprise.

“Amanda?!” She sputtered, unable to help herself. She had seemed like such a meek girl! Never would Marinette have guessed that she would be akumatized…but then again, when it came to Hawk Moth, it didn’t matter how nice the person normally was, did it?

Bari-Star’s teeth grit together in rage, and she raised her scepter, the end of it tapered to a worryingly sharp end.

“I am _Bari-Star_ , and you will _stay away from Desiree even if I have to make you!_ ”

Marinette yelped, crossing her arms in front of her face and squeezing her eyes shut, for though she was usually Ladybug in these situations, right now, she didn’t have a red and black-spotted suit to protect her vulnerable skin against attacks this violent, didn’t even have her yo-yo to deflect it, or a baton like Chat Noir used—

There was a loud clanging noise, the kind that made Marinette’s ears ring. She opened her eyes, and found black leather in her face, as well as a ponytail keeping back very messy blonde hair…

Marinette couldn’t stifle a groan.

Oh no, not _now._

One of Chat Noir’s ears twitched, as if he heard her, but he didn’t turn around to focus on her, bringing his staff to rest across his shoulders all casual-like.

“Now now, I doubt _murder_ will make your problems go away just like that, akuma,” he said in a voice so reasonable and playful that Marinette was tempted to shove him over. He was one to talk, the mangy hypocrite! “And as much as I’m always up for a _cat fight_ , I’m afraid I’m gonna have to step in now.”

“Get out of my way, cat!” Spat Bari-Star, and from around Chat Noir, Marinette could see the akuma raise her scepter again. “I’ve scratched you once already! If you don’t step aside, I’ll impale you next!”

“Ha, see, that’s where we run into a problem…” Marinette’s mouth opened in horror as Chat stored his baton behind him, raising and flexing a clawed hand. “My scratches will hurt _much worse_ than yours.”

Bari-Star jabbed at Chat Noir just as his Cataclysm powers took effect; he sliced clean through her scepter, and it fell to pieces onto Marinette’s balcony before disintegrating. Marinette desperately searched, but no akuma popped out, and she grit her teeth as Bari-Star jumped back, standing on her balcony railing and cursing.

“Damn you, Chat Noir!” She hissed at him, turning her back to reveal what looked like a jetpack…fueled with coffee. Of course. “You can’t guard your precious girlfriend forever—I’ll be back, and you’ll be sorry!”

“I’m _not_ his girlfriend!” Marinette couldn’t help but call after the akuma as it fled, irritated by the whole situation. She had enough sense to grab Chat by his belt as he leapt onto her balcony railing as well, apparently eager to give chase. “And where are you going?”

Chat finally turned to look at her, roguish grin in place.

“I’m doing what I have to do—going after the akuma.” He angled himself towards her, a green eye roving over her…something Marinette did not appreciate one bit. “I wish I could stay and chat, though. It’s been a while, Princess, but you’re as gorgeous as ever.”

Marinette knew that Chat would be expecting her to swoon, perhaps compliment him on how handsome he’d turned out, or some bullshit like that.

But Marinette couldn’t focus on anything but that nasty-looking gash in his right side that was bleeding freely. Bari-Star must have nicked him when he deflected the blow meant for Marinette. And, despite all her irritations with him as of late…Marinette could not let him rush away bleeding like that.

“Get down from there,” she commanded him with a frown, tugging on his belt tail. “You’re injured.”

“What, this?” Chat Noir glanced down at the wound, giving a shrug meant to be careless…except that Marinette saw him wince. “‘Tis but a flesh wound, Princess. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Now if you’ll excuse—ack!”

With a strength he didn’t know she possessed—as he shouldn’t—Marinette tugged him down from her balcony railing by his arm, ignoring his protests and muffled curses as she dragged him into her bedroom, quick eyes making sure Tikki was tucked safely away before entering her bathroom.

“Sit,” she commanded, shoving Chat Noir towards the edge of the tub as she turned to her bathroom cabinet, gathering the first aid kit she kept well-stocked because…well, because she was Marinette. As she rummaged around for the appropriate materials, slipping on elastic gloves, she saw Chat’s eyes flicking around nervously, like a cat being taken to the vet.

“Ah…Princess, I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” he began carefully, and as Marinette turned to him with an unpackaged, sterile needle, his pupils narrowed as he stared at the sharp object. “B-but I really should be after the akuma—”

“Ladybug can handle it, can’t she?” Marinette interrupted, while inwardly wincing. She really _should_ be off and after the akuma…and she didn’t owe Chat anything…but… “This’ll only take a few minutes.”

Chat glanced down at his ring as it gave a beep.

“I don’t really have a few minutes,” he stated, still with that skittish look on his face, his eyes darting to the needle Marinette held every few seconds. She huffed at him, resting her free hand on her hip.

“Look, I’m trying to help you,” she reminded him with a scowl, “and this’ll go quicker if you stop being so damn jittery. But hey, if you wanna bleed out while chasing the akuma…”

Marinette waved her hand in invitation at her open bathroom door, her expression sarcastic.

“Be my guest,” she invited…though her tone made it sound more like a challenge.

Chat stared at her a moment, his gaze going occasionally to the door, as if he was trying to calculate his chances of being able to escape before she caught up to him.

She narrowed her eyes at him, silently daring him to go anywhere.

The threat must have registered, for Chat sat down with a sigh, pushing loose blonde hair out of his face.

“…All right, fine. You win this time, Princess,” he caved, and Marinette smirked.

“That’s what I thought,” she said softly to herself, turning to prep the needle for emergency stitching. The thread missed the eye of the needle, however, when a loud zipping sound suddenly echoed around the bathroom walls. Marinette glanced over—

“Wha—?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” She shrieked as the bell around Chat Noir’s neck was drawn south, the zipper of his costume apparently attached to it. Because of this, she saw a lot more of Chat Noir than she had ever wanted to see, and hastily threw up a hand between her eyes and his body…his incredibly cut body…

‘ _FOCUS,_ ’ Marinette chided herself, turning away with her nose in the air to refocus on the needle, though she could definitely feel Chat staring at her.

“…I have to undo my costume so you can get to the injury, right?” He reasoned, though there was something teasing in his tone that Marinette didn’t like one bit. “…Did I startle you, Princess?”

“N-no,” Marinette stammered, and she hated herself for it. She huffed and took a deep breath to regain her composure, finally threading the needle properly. “I just…forgot.”

“There’s no shame in being overwhelmed,” Chat purred, and Marinette had to work very hard not to roll her eyes. “I _do_ work out.”

“Please,” Marinette grumbled, rolling her eyes after all as she picked up a bottle of antiseptic and a couple cotton balls. “I’ve seen the upper body of a supermodel up close, so you’re gonna have to try a little harder.”

 _Why_ was she bragging about this? It sounded like a childish attempt to make him jealous or something. Ugh.

“Oh really?” Chat drawled as Marinette summoned all her courage and turned to face him. It wasn’t bad—he just had his right shoulder and most of his abdomen exposed, allowing her plenty of access…to his _injury._ And it looked pretty bad. Biting her lip, Marinette knelt down in front of him, pushing past thoughts of closeness as she cleaned the blood away first with a wad of toilet paper. He winced, and yet, still managed to tease her. “And is he as muscular as me, this supermodel you’re lusting after?”

“I’m not _lusting_ after him,” Marinette bit at him, sternly reminding herself that she was not allowed to pointlessly stab Chat Noir with the needle she held. She did, however, take some vindictive pleasure in the way he hissed when she dabbed the antiseptic onto his wound. “He’s a friend. And anyway, none of this is your business, so why don’t you be a good cat man and just sit quietly for a few minutes, hmm?”

“You’re awfully defensive for someone who brought it up in the first place, Prin—” His taunt was cut short as he hissed in pain when Marinette pushed the needle into his skin. She glanced up at him, the word ‘wuss’ on the tip of her tongue…but that wasn’t exactly fair, was it? She _was_ causing more pain just to help him heal faster…

Shaking her head, Marinette reached carefully around him, grabbing hold of his belt tail.

“Here, bite down,” she instructed, shoving his own tail into his mouth before she continued her work, her hand steady, despite the fact that she was used to sewing clothes more than sewing skin…and there was a big difference between the two, skin being a little less cooperative when it was slick with sweat and blood…

After a moment—because a few minutes of silence was apparently too much to ask—Chat spat out his tail to speak.

“You’re different, Princess,” he remarked. It took Marinette a moment to respond, only because she couldn’t quite comprehend the comment.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re, er, sharper, I suppose. Like a kitten that’s grown into her claws. If I remember correctly, there was a time when you thought I was undeniably cool…but now you’re scolding me like you’re my mother.”

Marinette frowned, glancing up to meet his eyes.

“I did think you were cool,” she admitted, forcing the blush in her face down, because _she was not fourteen anymore goddamn it._ “But this was before you started thinking it was okay to go around murdering akumatized victims.”

Chat stared at her, realization dawning in his gaze, followed by an emotion that was almost too quick for Marinette to catch, for he looked away—but was that _shame_ she detected…?

“I suppose it makes sense that you’d be against me, being as kind as you are,” Chat muttered, and Marinette stopped stitching to blink at him in surprise. His Miraculous beeped, however, and she forced herself to continue. “But you’ve gotta understand, Princess—there’s something dark hidden in all of the akuma you call ‘victims’. And that’s exactly what draws Hawk Moth to them.”

“ _Everyone_ has darkness in them,” Marinette reminded him, frowning as she focused on patching him up. “Wherever light exists, there _has_ to be darkness. It’s a fact of life, and it’s not their fault. Are you really willing to possibly assassinate half of Paris in this twisted quest for peace?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

The affirmation did nothing to restore Marinette’s faith in him. She yanked a little harder on the stitching then she meant to, and Chat hissed in protest, but she ignored him, carefully finishing the stitching before she reached for the antiseptic again to dab over it.

“…Seven years ago, my best friend was akumatized,” she reminded him, scowling both at the situation and the memory. “Hawk Moth took advantage of her when she was at her lowest point, and I knew that. Even afterwards, not once did I hold it against her. She’s such a spirited and compassionate person, always concerned with truth and justice…and if it weren’t for her, I honestly don’t think I’d be the person I am today.”

Marinette tossed bloody tissues, cotton balls, and her gloves into the trash, reaching into the first aid kit once more for a bandage with adhesive around the edges she could press around Chat Noir’s wound to keep it from bleeding any further. As she unwrapped the bandage and attached it to him, her eyes found his.

“Are you telling me someone like that deserves to die just because a supervillain used her for his own schemes, once upon a time?” She challenged him.

Chat glanced away from her, cat ears flattening against his head. This had to be the most uncomfortable she’d seen him in years.

“…Is she really so great, if she was willing to go along with the schemes of a supervillain?” He asked, the question stubborn…though it sounded like he was forcing it, like he didn’t appreciate his morals and beliefs being challenged this way. Quickly losing patience, Marinette got to her feet, standing over him with her hands on her hips.

“She was feeling _trapped,_ ” She snapped at him, rage bubbling beneath the surface, threatening to burst. “She was in a moment of weakness, with nothing and no one to turn to.” And Marinette really should have been there for her…but she had made peace with that guilt a long time ago, so she moved on. “And then someone came along and offered her power beyond her wildest dreams, the power to change her life. Are you really so arrogant that you can claim _you_ wouldn’t jump at such at such a chance immediately?”

His Miraculous chirped once more, and Marinette glanced down, noting he was down to two paw pads. He didn’t really have the time to sit there and be lectured by her, but Marinette didn’t care; she seized his wrist, lifting the back of his own hand up to his face, her eyes burning into him.

“How can you sit there and judge _anyone_ for wanting the power to change their life with this ring on your finger?”

Chat stared up at her, his eyes wide. Slowly, he detached her hand from his, gripping his wrist where she’d touched him, as if he was in pain and trying to rub it away. His gaze slanted away once more, but just for a moment, before those cat eyes were on her face again.

“…You’re very astute, Princess,” he admitted, sounding like he was annoyed by such a fact.

Marinette dared to hope that maybe some semblance of sense was beginning to sink in at last.

“I do what I can,” she replied simply as his Miraculous beeped in a distressed sort of fashion. “And you’d better go. Ladybug’s probably waiting for you.”

“Ha. I doubt that,” Chat sighed as he got to his feet, and Marinette stared at him. He sounded…regretful. As if it was hurting him to go against her—against Ladybug. Chat Noir sounded like he was genuinely regretting their distance.

‘ _Then_ why?’ Marinette wondered, staring at him in frustration as he slid his suit back into place, yanking the bell and zipper back up. ‘ _Why do this, Chat? What are you thinking?_ ’

She just didn’t understand, and so her lips parted, the question poised on her lips—

“Well, looks like my time here is up,” Chat said, glancing down at Marinette, a shade of his roguish grin showing up. “It was…interesting talking to you, Princess.”

Marinette swallowed the words in regret. She couldn’t say them. Not while she was still Marinette.

“Just be more careful,” she warned him, frowning as she folded her arms, watching him move around her to the bathroom door. “I may not agree with how you’re handling things…but I don’t want to see you hurt, either.”

Chat blinked at her, as if Marinette had surprised him with such words. After a stunned moment, he slowly turned from her…but not before Marinette caught a grin that was almost endearing—almost like his old self—spreading across his face.

“I’ll try and be more careful…though if injuries mean I get to see you a little more often, I wouldn’t mind it.” He turned to tilt a wink in her direction, and though Marinette sighed, she recognized that there was something sincerely lonely in his gaze. Despite more and more of Paris seemingly backing his efforts, Chat Noir seemed to feel like he was truly alone in his endeavors…especially because his Lady had turned her back on him just as effectively as he had turned his back on her.

‘ _Well that’s_ his _fault,_ ’ Marinette reminded herself, hating the pity that began to swell within her. ‘ _Don’t go feeling guilty just because he’s making sad cat eyes at you…_ ’

“Go,” she urged him when his Miraculous began to beep incessantly—he had a mere minute before his transformation broke—

Chat suddenly swooped down on her, catching one of her hands and placing a kiss to her knuckles. The move was so nostalgic that something wedged itself into Marinette’s throat, rendering her speechless as he called out a farewell before he disappeared over her balcony, vaulting away. And Marinette stared out after him, long after he had vanished. This was exactly why she was so annoyed—with his behavior and attitude as of late, she so desperately wanted to hate him so that it made it easier for her to fight him as well as the akuma. But seeing him like that—hurt, confused…lonely…how was Marinette supposed to feel?

How was Ladybug supposed to deal with him when he didn’t even seem like he wanted to be saved?

“Marinette!” Tikki interrupted Marinette’s thoughts; she gave a startled jump and shook her head, scattering thoughts of Chat Noir’s sad eyes from her mind. She couldn’t afford to focus on him any longer—he was probably off refueling his kwami, which meant the akuma was running amuck elsewhere, the citizens of Paris helpless. In this moment, Ladybug was needed more than Marinette was.

“Tikki, transform me!”

Ladybug flung herself off her balcony, sending out her yo-yo and swinging rapidly through the streets of Paris, keeping her eyes peeled and her ears sharp for—

“AIYEEEEE!!!”

—Trouble.

‘ _That was quick,_ ’ Ladybug registered with relief, swinging down into the street where the akuma known as Bari-Star was intimidating some woman against a car…a beautiful woman that automatically drew eyes wherever she went…

“Ladybug!” Desiree cried in relief once she spotted the spotted superhero. Ladybug cringed as Bari-Star immediately rounded on her; she had been hoping for a sneak attack, but oh well…

“Back off, Ladybug!” Bari-Star snarled at her, standing almost _protectively_ in front of Desiree. “I’ve finally found the woman of my dreams, and I’m not going to let you ruin this for me!”

“Amanda, this isn’t the way!” Ladybug protested, holding her hands up in an attempt to entreat the akuma. “If you just _talked_ to Desiree, I’m sure she would’ve been willing to listen to your feelings!”

“Amanda?” Desiree parroted, wide eyes on Bari-Star’s back. “It’s…it’s _you_ under there…?”

Bari-Star flushed as red as her hair, shrieking in indignation.

“MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS!!!” She hurled at Ladybug before she turned around, scooping Desiree up into her arms and staring her coffee-fueled jetpack once again. “Desiree is mine!!”

“Ladybug, help!” Desiree cried as Bari-Star flew off with her, plainly terrified. Ladybug growled under her breath, tossing her yo-yo into the air.

“Lucky Charm!”

And today’s random item: a spotted serving tray, much like the one’s in the café Amanda worked in.

Ladybug huffed. She supposed it would be poetic justice…if she could figure out how to use it…

Sending out her yo-yo, she hooked one of Bari-Star’s ankles and ran around a nearby streetlight, pulling the string taut to keep the akuma from escaping, no matter how much juice she poured into her jetpack. Ladybug grit her teeth, one leg braced against the streetlight…which left her hands practically tied, unfortunately. How was she to stop Bari-Star if she one, didn’t know what the possessed item was, and two, couldn’t get close enough to figure it out?

Ladybug glared up at the pesky akuma, searching for some way to bring her down…when she was promptly distracted by Desiree, who was mouthing something to her while pointing at the strange, tea-cup crown sitting atop Bari-Star’s red curls.

“That!” Desiree was mouthing rapidly at her, jabbing a finger at the crown. “It’s that!”

Sure enough, when Ladybug laid eyes on the crown, it became spotted in red and black.

Abruptly, Ladybug understood, and she nodded her thanks to Desiree, cautioning her to watch out. Desiree responded by scrunching down in Bari-Star’s grip, something that distracted the akuma. With a measured breath and careful aim, Ladybug flung the circular serving tray towards Bari-Star’s crown. Her luck held, aim true—the tray knocked off the crown, sending it toppling to the ground.

Hastily, Ladybug adjusted her yo-yo as the crown smashed upon the ground, racing forward as Desiree and a de-akumatizing Amanda fell back to the earth. Amanda was caught by the yo-yo still attached to her ankle, but Ladybug just barely managed to catch Desiree, setting her down on the ground before she searched for the akuma, spotting it attempting to make a swift getaway high in the air. Cursing under her breath, she jumped over to Amanda, let her down as gently as she could while being speedy, and grappled her way to the nearest rooftop, letting her yo-yo fly and snagging the akuma at the last possible minute.

“Bye bye, pretty butterfly,” she bade the harmless butterfly that popped out of her compact, sighing in exhaustion as she jumped down, snagged the spotted serving tray and tossed it skyward, allowing her restorative powers to do their magic.

Before she could even seem to catch her breath, reporters were upon her.

“Ladybug, where have you _been?!_ The akuma had been causing trouble for at least ten minutes before you arrived on the scene!”

“I—”

“Ladybug, how do you respond to comments that you’re past your prime, and simply not up to the task of keeping the akuma in line anymore?”

“That’s—”

“Ladybug, is it true that, in an attempt to recapture your fading popularity, you and Chat Noir simply _made_ another Hawk Moth?”

“Wha—”

“Is that what caused the rift in your partnership?”

“Is Chat Noir doubling as Hawk Moth, Ladybug?”

“Ladybug, we want to know the truth!”

“The public has the right to know!”

“ENOUGH!” Ladybug burst out, and the reporters crowding her took a hasty step back. “Look, this has all been just a big—”

“Ladybug!!”

This voice, Ladybug let interrupt, for it was familiar and terrified. Snapping her head to the sound of the voice, Ladybug spotted Alya not too far away, her hazel eyes wide with fear behind her glasses as she pointed to the left.

“She’s going to jump!!!”

Ladybug spotted the problem a second before it was too late; reacting immediately, she sent her yo-yo out to wrap around Amanda once again, this time around her abdomen. Breaking through the reporters, she tugged on the string, dragging Amanda back off the top of the railing of the bridge, where she had been poised to dive into the Seine just a moment before.

“Amanda!!!” She cried, catching the woman just as she was about to slam into the concrete of the bridge. “What were you _thinking?!_ ”

Her anger abruptly disappeared a moment later—tears were falling thick from Amanda’s eyes, and she pressed shaking hands to her face, as if the sight was shameful.

“I-I-I’m _ruined,_ ” she sobbed, and Ladybug felt her heart split painfully in two. “N-no one will want anything t-t-to do with me now…I-I’m a _monster…_ I’m g-gonna get fired…my f-f-family’s gonna d- _disown_ me…I h-have _nothing_ now…”

“Amanda—” Ladybug began, about to assure her that _none_ of what she just said could possibly be true…but then she heard it. Angry noises in the distance…growing steadily closer.

“No more akuma! No more akuma!”

It was a chant Ladybug had never heard before. Slowly standing up, she turned…and spotted the angry mob marching towards them. There were dozens of them, citizens old and young, men and women, all carrying picket signs, all looking furious, hate in their gazes.

Protesters.

“Ladybug!” Called the front-most protester, jabbing a thick finger in her direction. “Enough is enough! We’re _sick_ of living in fear because of scum like _that_ and their wild emotions turning them into menaces!”

“Chat Noir has the right idea!” Jeered a woman near the middle of the mob. “Get rid of ‘em! We don’t need monsters in our city!”

“Yeah!”

“No more akuma!”

“Do the right thing, Ladybug!”

The reporters descended upon the mob like ravenous wolves, desperate to get the scoop from this hate group that had seemingly formed overnight. And Ladybug could only stare, unable to comprehend.

The fact that people actually believed this was _okay_ —

A hand found her shoulder, and Ladybug jumped, finding Alya at her side.

“Hi,” she greeted, looking like Ladybug felt. “This is…disgusting, isn’t it?”

Ladybug could say nothing. There were no words.

After a moment, Alya spoke again.

“Listen, if you need someone to take her home…” She nodded towards Amanda, where she was curled up on the bridge, sobbing harder than ever. “I can do it. You can trust me.” Alya raised her hand in a scout’s honor, smiling gently. “I promise.”

Despite the situation, Ladybug managed a weak smile.

“I know,” she said, and then crouched over, gently helping the sobbing Amanda to her feet. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Alya slung one of Amanda’s arms around her shoulders and slowly led her away, whispering reassurances that Ladybug could just hear above the din of ignorance roaring behind her. The sight before her, of her best friend offering to help a complete stranger, made her sure, more than ever, of her defense of the akumatized victims, and that they were more than their trauma of becoming tools of evil.

It also instilled within her a rage so potent at the crowd behind her that for a moment, she thought her mask slipped down, for all she saw was _red._

There was a megaphone left unguarded inside a nearby news van. Ladybug snatched it and climbed up on top of the news van, holding it high in the air as she pressed the testing button.

The noise the megaphone made was grating and unpleasant, though it was nowhere near as bad as the squawking of the angry mob and ignorant reporters below. Nevertheless, nearly all of them clapped hands over their ears, wincing at the sudden screeching. Ladybug waited until they all turned towards the source of the noise, making sure she had their attention before she moved the megaphone to her mouth to address them.

“Citizens of Paris,” she spoke to them, like a principal addressing troublemaking students, only worse. “Today, I am forced to say something I have never had the cause to say ever since becoming Paris’ hero: I’m disappointed in you.

“Just a minute ago, a woman’s _life_ almost ended, because she was dreading this _exact reaction_ from you,” Ladybug growled at them, pointing a finger at the bridge, where a heart-stopping minute before, Amanda had been poised to plunge into the murky depths below, rather than face what was coming. And, as Ladybug witnessed the madness before her very eyes, she found that a part of her sympathized with that moment of reckless desperation. Meeting as many eyes as she could, she continued, “Tell me, Paris—when did this behavior become acceptable? Standing here before you now, I’m ashamed to be a citizen of Paris myself—ashamed to be your hero! Who in their right mind would want to defend a city that’s so determined to destroy itself from the inside out? When did you lose your heart, Paris? How could you act so thoughtlessly? How could you have become so cruel?”

Ladybug, unfortunately, knew the cause. And, as if thinking of him had summoned the devil himself, Ladybug glanced up and found Chat Noir lurking in the shadows of the rooftop across the street, arms folded as he stared at her, green eyes glinting in the darkness. Ladybug swallowed, willing herself to keep her nerve. She couldn’t help but wonder, however, what Chat thought about all this. Did he see this madness for what it truly was? Or was he reveling in the chaos, of the destruction of Paris’ sanity?

Ladybug had no way of knowing. The leather-clad cat man that stared at her from across the street was a stranger, nothing more...

A stranger whose wound she had cleaned and stitched just twenty minutes ago.

A stranger whose eyes had been so incredibly sad at the mention of her.

A stranger who, maybe, didn’t have to be a stranger…as long as Ladybug made it clear that it wasn’t too late…that they could still fix this…

She swallowed and straightened her shoulders, raising her megaphone once again…but her eyes did not leave him.

“This madness _has_ to end. The akumatized victims have no more control over their emotions than any other citizen of Paris. To blame them for being taken advantage of is to blame them for daring to be upset, which is ridiculous. _No one_ can control their emotions like that. And before you say something ridiculous, like they had the darkness inside them all along or something, _think_ : how would you feel if it was someone you loved? A relative you adore? Your best friend? …What if _you’re_ next? Is this how you want to be saved? Coming back to yourself, confused, scared…surrounded by angry people who have no idea what they’re talking about?”

The crowd below her grumbled. Ladybug paid them no attention. At this moment, she had eyes for no one but Chat Noir.

“I’m trying,” she said, her voice lowering unconsciously as she held that green, glittering gaze across the street, the gaze that seemed to pierce through her, as if he could see every single bit of her, even under the mask. The thought made Ladybug shiver, but she made herself keep speaking. “I’m doing everything I can. But I’ll say it: I’m scared, too. Scared of what this new enemy means, of the damage he’s causing…and what we’ve become as a result. I’m scared, but I know that this is not right. Things shouldn’t be like this.”

Her Miraculous gave a beep. She ignored this, too, trusting that Tikki would be able to hold on for just a little longer…

“I’ll always be here to protect Paris…but just because I _can_ do it alone doesn’t mean that I _want_ to. The only way I can keep going…is to know that you’re on my side. I need your support. I…I need you.”

Suddenly, the streets of Paris were empty. In this moment, it was only Ladybug and Chat Noir, floating in a space that was both strange and familiar, a comforting warmth and an unpleasant chill battling against each other, warring for the right to reign. Ladybug stared at Chat Noir, at her former partner, searching for all the things that made him familiar, that made him her kitty. They were hardly distinguishable…but maybe they were still there. If only she could just reach out and pull them into view…

Ladybug’s grip tightened on the megaphone to keep from actually reaching out to him. Her teeth moved to worry her bottom lip, the uncharacteristic display of doubt slipping through as she watched him. Would he hear her? Would he realize that this separation—the destruction of their partnership—was hurting her just as much as it was hurting him?

Would her vulnerability be enough to bring him back to her?

“Please,” she said softly, feeling her chest constrict with emotion, “please don’t make me do this alone anymore. Come back.”

It was the longest moment of Ladybug’s life. Chat just stared at her, his arms unconsciously lowering to his sides. Ladybug counted the breaths between them, the beat of her racing pulse, the beeps her Miraculous gave, time ticking away rapidly, and yet standing so very, very still…

Chat Noir finally moved. He blinked at her once…and then he turned around, giving her his back.

Ladybug felt something inside her shatter as he vaulted away a moment later, jumping across rooftops before he disappeared like the rogue alley cat that he was. That he was _choosing_ to be.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Ladybug closed her eyes. She couldn’t do this—she couldn’t break down now, in front of these people. She had dared to let her weakness show, and look what happened: Chat had disappeared, without so much as a backward glance, leaving her behind.

And that, apparently, was all there was to say on the matter: Chat Noir would not come back to her. He was choosing to do things his way after all, and doing so, he had turned his back on the sanctity of his duty, on his kwami, on the whole of Paris itself.

On Ladybug.

Anger would come, no doubt, and Ladybug wished for it desperately now…but all there was now was pain, the edge sharp, piercing her. She took another breath and looked down, at the cameras aimed at her, at the eyes upon her. She had no idea whether or not any of them registered that she had not been speaking to them a moment ago…but it surprised her to find that many of the gazes were shocked, as if Ladybug’s loss of composure had struck them harder than words ever could. A few remained obstinate—faces scowled at her from the hateful angry mob, refusing to be moved—but many of the reporters were now looking unsure, glancing furtively at one another…humbled.

Ladybug took fresh heart from that, and raised the megaphone once again.

“We can be better than this, Paris,” she assured them, her voice growing stronger with each word, “and we _will_ be. I’m going to get to the bottom of this, and I’m going to stop this second Hawk Moth…but I can only do that if I know that Hawk Moth’s victims will _not_ be harassed for something they had no control over. I don’t judge or blame any of the victims, and neither should you.” A pointed look at the protestors. “Please, let’s bring back the Paris that I love. The Paris that I’m proud to protect. Let’s be better together, Paris.”

Her Miraculous gave a third beep, and Ladybug lowered the microphone, signaling that she was done with her speech. She did not stick around to see how people would interpret it—whether or not the protestors would actually see sense thanks to her words. Ladybug was done being Ladybug for the moment, and so she merely sent out her yo-yo and swung away, taking the long way home to be alone with her thoughts for a while.

A couple blocks from her apartment, her transformation threatened to give out, and so Ladybug touched down into an alleyway and released it herself, catching Tikki in her hands.

“I’m proud of you, Marinette,” were the first words out of the kwami’s mouth, despite her exhaustion. Marinette gave a weak smile that flickered and died a second later.

“One of us has to be,” she said quietly, pressing her back against the brick behind her, closing her eyes with an exhausted sigh. “…He’s not going to stop, is he? Chat Noir. He…we can’t be partners anymore.”

“Marinette…”

The soft touch to her cheek did nothing to staunch the tears, and they came hard and fast, hitting Marinette so quickly that there was nothing she could do to stop them. Her knees protested under the weight of her grief, and she felt herself sliding to the ground, sobs ripping themselves from her throat, the aching loss tearing a hole right through her. Marinette pressed a hand over her eyes, humiliated by these tears, mortified that Tikki was forced to witness them, ashamed that they were even falling in the first place.

“S-stupid cat…” She wept, her frame curling in on itself, shaking. “Why is he like this?! What _happened_ to him?!”

“Marinette, shh. It’ll be okay…”

“It _won’t_ ,” Marinette cried, burying her face in her arm now, making unattractive sniffling noises. “Y-you said it yourself, Tikki…Ladybug and C-Chat Noir are supposed to be _partners._ How can I do this without him?! I don’t want to be Ladybug without Chat Noir!!”

It was as those words were wrenched from her that Marinette was once again forced to face the fact that she had been counting on Chat Noir so much more than she had initially realized.

And his second—and final—rejection of her had broken her so much more effectively than any akuma attack ever could.

Something wet landed on Marinette’s free hand. Distracted, she glanced up, confused—it wasn’t supposed to rain today—and her heart nearly broke all over again: Tikki was in tears, too.

“I know, Marinette,” she whimpered, curling up in Marinette’s hand, clutching her Chosen’s thumb for comfort. “I know. It’s hard. It hurts. I know.”

And she _did_ know—those big, sad indigo eyes said it all as they blinked through tears, peering up at Marinette in anguish, Marinette’s pain echoed back at her…though, coming from Tikki, the sadness felt like it went so much deeper. And that realization hurt Marinette, too.

“But you must persevere, Marinette. Paris needs Ladybug. And, no matter what, I’ll always be here for you.”

‘ _As Ladybug, and as Marinette._ ’

She didn’t say the words this time…but it didn’t matter. Marinette knew them to be true, and that was all that mattered. Sniffling, she held her kwami close, taking refuge in the tears they shared, in their joint pain.

Tikki was right: whether they respected her decisions or not, whether they agreed with her beliefs or not…Paris needed Ladybug. She couldn’t afford to falter now, when her duty was harder than ever before.

And so Marinette would be Ladybug, despite her own wants, because that’s what Paris needed from her.

One half of a whole was not better than both…but it had to be better than none.

It had to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, yeah, so I made up for the lack of action in the past two chapters with a shitload of action in this one. Hope it wasn't overwhelming. ^^;
> 
> And I hope you guys suffered just the right amount reading this wall of text.
> 
> :D
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	9. Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which things happen, but not at the break-neck speed we experienced last chapter. XP
> 
> Gotta set up some stuff, so bear with me here, mmkay?
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

A week blurred by, with a new routine for Marinette set in place: get up early, go jogging (while being accompanied more often than not by a certain model), stop by her parents’ bakery for breakfast, shake said model to go home and shower, go to class, come back home, sketch out new designs while starting to sew previously created ones, and save Paris from akuma attacks, all while keeping a rogue cat man and the ignorant masses of his followers calling for the slaughter of akuma victims at bay. It was a shock to Marinette’s system when she awoke one Friday morning to find snow falling from the sky.

Ugh. Winter was coming.

Groaning, Marinette buried herself back into the blankets. She didn’t like being cold before she became Ladybug, but ever since receiving the Ladybug Miraculous, winters had _sucked_ for her; she became so sluggish, and she only wanted to sleep all the time. Like a beetle wanting to hibernate for the winter.

This she blamed on Tikki, who yawned widely beside her, just as content to lay in bed as she was, instead of reminding Marinette that she had adult stuff to do.

Marinette grumbled and reset her alarm to wake her before class.

Fuck running in this weather. Even if she tried, there was a good chance she would just turn around and go back, burrowing into her blankets so far that it would take some effort to extract her.

The day passed in a haze, and before she knew it, Marinette was back in her room, dozing at her work desk. She had four out of the five spring ensembles required for her senior project sketched out, and was reasonably pleased with her work so far. It was only the peacock design that was still giving her trouble, and she couldn’t quite focus, the chill she was forced to bear all day catching up to her, though her room was nice and warm…very cozy…

Marinette jolted awake when her phone began to ring shrilly. A piece of sketch paper was stuck to the side of her face, and Marinette pulled it away, smacking her lips and making a face at the drool that had pooled on one of her sketches. Great, now she would have to redo it…

Yawning, she silenced her phone at last, lifting it to her ear without checking the caller ID, because she already knew who it was.

“Mmnello?”

“Ah-ha! Napping when you should be heading over to Francoise’s, huh? Do I have to come over there and get you, Marinette?”

“Nooo,” Marinette yawned, rubbing at her face with the heel of her palm. “I’m up, I’m up.”

“Good, then hurry up and get your butt over here!” Alya demanded. “Nino has some big thing to tell us, but he’s not spilling until you get here!”

“My lips are sealed!” Nino called in the background, followed by a grunt. Marinette was willing to bet that he had been elbowed in the gut by Alya.

“So hurry up and get here, girl, or I may have to resort to torturing Nino to get this information out of him!”

Nino gave a theatrical gulp. “Hurry, Marinette! My life is at stake!”

“Oh my god, you two are ridiculous,” Marinette laughed, pushing herself to her feet. “I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t do anything drastic, Alya.”

“No promises!” Alya called before hanging up. Giggling to herself, Marinette headed to her bathroom to wash up real fast before she dared to venture out again.

The snow was melting as it made contact with the ground, but that didn’t seem to deter the sky—it kept sending the white fluff down to the earth, determined to cover it, though the ground was too warm for the snow to stick. Marinette frowned around the muffler wrapped securely around the lower half of her face, a sleeping Tikki nestled safe and warm within a hidden pocket of the muffler. Marinette would be more disgruntled that it was cold enough to snow, were it not for how pretty it looked. It was truly a catch-22: she hated the weather that caused it, but she wanted to see it, because it was aesthetically pleasing. She just couldn’t win.

Sighing, she got into her car, cranking the heater up as high as it would go, letting the car idle until it was warm enough for her to focus on driving. Any other time, she would just walk to Francoise’s gelato shop—it wasn’t that far away from where she lived—but in this weather, it was out of the question. In fact, gelato itself would be out of the question, were it not for Marinette’s sweet tooth. Hmm…maybe Francoise already had his specialty brownie and ice cream combination ready to sell…

Marinette parked a block from the gelato shop, bundling herself as much as she could in the warmth of her hat, gloves, coat, and muffler before she reluctantly left her heated car, stepping out into the soft chill of snow swirling around her. She was momentarily distracted, watching the flurries dance their way to earth, as if it was a lazy race none of them were in any hurry to complete, just enjoying the descent. She smiled and lifted a hand, wanting to catch a couple and see them melt in the palm of her glove—

Her phone began to ring again, muffled by her coat pocket. Rolling her eyes and smiling, Marinette answered just as she was crossing the street, the gelato shop in view.

“Hello?”

“Girl, where are you? Nino’s been teasing about this big news for the last ten minutes, and I’m _honestly_ considering shanking him with a whittled-down spoon.”

“I’m being threatened, Marinette!” Nino called in the background, and Marinette smirked as she approached the window of Francoise’s, spying the two dorks she called best friends across the room, cuddled up as close as ever, no such nonsense about threats present. “Hurry up and mediate like you usually do!”

“Do I have to hurry? It doesn’t really seem like you two need it,” she commented idly, watching as their heads snapped up and spied her through the window. She gave a mocking wave, and Alya’s answering grin was cheeky, Nino’s sheepish.

“What’re you doing standing out in the cold?” Alya challenged, raising a beckoning finger. “I know you hate it out there, so come inside already!”

“I would’ve been inside already, were it not for your impatient phone call,” Marinette teased, sticking out her tongue at Alya simply because she could—her best friend couldn’t reach her out here, unless she decided to don her jacket and give chase.

“Oh, now you’re just being a little sh—whoa,” Alya breathed, her eyes widening as she stared at Marinette. Marinette blinked at the blank look on her best friend’s face, worry beginning to swell within her.

“Alya?” She asked, wondering what was so shocking that Alya had stopped talking.

In response, Alya merely pointed to something over Marinette’s shoulder.

Marinette turned—and nearly suffered through a fatal heart attack.

“Hi,” Adrien greeted, hiding his smirk behind the back of his hand as Marinette fell back against the front window, closing her eyes and attempting to reason her heart back into its normal slow and steady rhythm.

“What the _hell_ , Adrien?!” She spat as soon as she was able, opening her eyes to glare at him. Hastily, she hung up the call with Alya and dropped her phone back into her pocket. “What’re you doing sneaking up on me like that?!”

“Not my fault you didn’t hear me coming,” Adrien replied with a mild shrug…but his eyes were wicked. Marinette scowled at him, annoyed to find how handsome he looked in his black trench coat, that eggshell blue scarf tied securely at the base of his throat. She felt herself flush and hated it—now that Adrien knew the scarf had been a gift from her, it felt like he was wearing it to intentionally embarrass her, and she didn’t appreciate it one bit.

“Where’s your hat?” She asked to distract herself, frowning at his bare, blonde head. “Aren’t your ears cold?”

Adrien brushed his fingertips through the careful swoop of hair that rested against his forehead. Snow was melting in it, dissolving whatever gel he used, and Marinette smirked at the thought of how messy his hair might look in about twenty minutes of exposure to snow.

“Not especially,” he replied with a mild shrug. “Winter doesn’t bother me too much…” He eyed her up and down, his lips twitching. “…Not like it seems to bother you, anyway. Guess that explains why I didn’t see you on my run this morning.”

Was he judging her? Marinette couldn’t be sure. Just to be safe, she frowned at him, lower lip jutting out in a pout.

“I don’t understand how you can run so early in the morning when it’s this cold out,” she said, shaking her head at the madness that was Adrien Agreste. She shivered, as if to protest such lunacy. Adrien’s smile faded.

“Why are you standing out here in the cold, anyway?” He glanced up into the window, inspecting the shop behind Marinette. She didn’t have to look to know when Adrien spotted Nino—his posture became suddenly stiff, eyes widening by a margin. He quickly looked away, back down at Marinette. “Ah. Meeting friends, huh?”

“Yeah…” Marinette trailed off, peering up at Adrien curiously. He had the strangest look on his face; his eyes were tight, jaw locked, looking awfully skittish all of a sudden. He appeared to realize it, however, and dropped his gaze away from her. This made Marinette ache and frown all at the same time.

“Do you want to join us?” She offered unexpectedly, taking both Adrien and herself by surprise. The model blinked at her, as if she had suddenly used a dialect of Chinese he _wasn’t_ familiar with, which was impossible. Clearing his throat, he gave her an awkward smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I don’t, uh, think I’ll be very welcome.”

Marinette shrugged.

“You’ll never know unless you try, right?” She asked, turning to head into the shop. Adrien gave her pause when he put his hand on her shoulder.

“Marinette, really,” he began, looking more uncomfortable than Marinette had ever seen him. “I’d rather you didn’t, I—”

“Hey.”

Adrien and Marinette jumped, turning and finding Nino suddenly there. His hands were buried in his heavy duty dark green coat, golden eyes focused and frowning at Adrien. Alya lurked behind him, looking worried.

“Is he bothering you, ‘Nette?” Nino asked, though his eyes didn’t leave Adrien. Marinette felt his hand slide from her shoulder.

“I’m fine, Nino,” she assured him, splaying her hands in a peace-making gesture. “Everything’s fine. Adrien and I were just…catching up.”

She glanced over at Adrien, but he had become rigid again, eyes dull as he regarded Nino. She shifted, stepping on his foot, drawing his eyes to her.

“Say something,” she mouthed to him, gesturing to Nino with a glance. Adrien’s jaw locked…and then unhinged.

“Nino,” he greeted, and there was a definite coolness to his voice that Marinette had never heard him use with Nino before. Nino seemed to register the tone, and his normally friendly golden eyes narrowed.

“Why are you bothering Marinette?” He demanded to know suddenly. Alya cringed, and Marinette bit her lip.

“I just said—”

“I’m not bothering her,” Adrien interrupted Marinette’s defense of him, frowning. “We were just having a conversation. No need to come out here and snap at me like you’re her guard dog.”

“Adrien!” Marinette sputtered, but Nino sneered, hackles rising.

“So what if I’m protective? I’m her _friend_. And if I feel like my friend is hanging around guys she shouldn’t be hanging around with, I’m gonna say something about it.”

“Marinette isn’t your responsibility. She’s a grown woman. Friend or not, you don’t really have a say in who she hangs around with.”

“How would you know, considering you don’t have any friends for a basis?”

“Nino!” Alya yelped, stunned. But the men had only eyes for each other, their stances steadily becoming more and more aggressive as they hurled abuse at each other.

“The fact that you assume I don’t have friends just because we stopped talking only tells me that you’ve gotten so full of yourself that it’s unreal.”

“And the fact that you’re so arrogant to think that I’d even _want_ to be friends with you anymore shows _me_ that you just grew up to become your _father!_ ”

The world was suddenly immobile. Marinette didn’t need the sudden quiet and stillness, or the look that froze on Adrien’s face, to know that Nino had crossed a line.

He seemed to realize it, too—he flinched as the words seemed to register in his mind, looking contrite. But that was quickly replaced by alarm when Adrien suddenly lunged forward. Marinette reacted instinctively, stepping into Adrien and blocking him with her shoulder. He was tall, but she was strong, and for a moment, the two opposing forces struggled, Marinette grunting with the effort, Adrien snarling in rage.

“Adrien, stop!” Marinette commanded, pushing her hands against his abdomen and making him rock back on his heels. The terrifying snarling from his throat abruptly stopped, and he wheeled on his heel, stalking off in the other direction. With a disappointed glance at Nino, Marinette followed, waiting until she got close enough to grab the back of his coat.

“Adrien, wai—”

“ _Leave me alone,_ ” Adrien hissed, wheeling on Marinette and baring his teeth at her. Marinette retreated a hasty step back, staring at his eyes. She couldn’t be seeing them correctly, but…they looked narrow, like—

He blinked, and they were abruptly normal again. The motion seemed to take all the fight out of him; his shoulders slumped in defeat and he turned away from her.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, and Marinette’s heart gave a painful throb at the strain in his voice. “Please, just…just leave me alone, Marinette.”

“…All right,” she reluctantly conceded. She reached out once more, however, laying a hand on his arm. Adrien twitched at the contact. “But…if you need someone to talk to, I’m here, okay?”

As a matter of fact…

Marinette fished out her phone from her pocket, biting her lip. Adrien might not be in the mood to indulge her…but she really wouldn’t know until _she_ tried, would she?

“Want to exchange numbers?” She offered, hesitating a little. “I mean, if you don’t want to, that’s fine…but I figured it might be smarter, since we sometimes meet up for morning runs and stuff…that way, if I end up deciding not to leave my bed, I can just text you and say it’s too cold, or, you know, whatever.”

Adrien stood still for a very long moment. Marinette let her hand slide away from him, about to let it drop, but then he moved, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out his phone, unlocked the screen, and handed it to her without looking at her. Her heart beating a little more slowly now, Marinette placed her unlocked phone in his awaiting palm, and they spent a couple silent minutes inputting their information into each other’s phones.

Adrien’s contacts were divided into two sections: “Work” and “Friends”. Marinette had a debate with herself over which list she should add her contact information to—while this wasn’t an exchange for work purposes, she wasn’t so arrogant as to add her information to the “Friends” list. But the “Work” list was really full…and only Chloe’s number was on the “Friends” list, which was really, really sad…but Marinette didn’t really want to be on the same list as Chloe Bourgeois…

Sighing to herself, she just added her info to the “Work” list to be done with it, handing Adrien his phone back just as he slipped hers back into her palm.

“Thanks,” Marinette breathed, sliding her phone back into her pocket and smiling tentatively at Adrien’s profile. His eyes were far away, staring through the snow at something she couldn’t see… “Um…you can feel free to text me for things other than jogging, okay? Like I said…if you need someone, I’m here.”

Adrien bobbed his blonde head, not looking at her for a moment…but then he glanced at her from his peripheral vision, an almost-smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“…Thank you, Mari,” he mumbled, barely audible above the whistle of the wind. Marinette shivered, folding her arms around herself.

“No problem,” she replied with a smile. Adrien sobered, and he glanced away from her.

“You’d better head back inside. It’s cold out here.” Raising a hand in farewell, he crossed the street, walking tall, his hands in his pockets. Such a confident stride…Marinette wondered if it was just habit for him to just walk around like he owned the world by now.

Shaking her head, she turned on her heel, returning to the gelato shop and ducking into the gracious warmth with a sigh of relief.

Nino and Alya were at the table she’d seen them occupying earlier. Nino was slumped over the table, his arms folded under him, and Alya had an arm around his shoulders, muttering to him. They both looked up as Marinette approached, and Nino cringed when she put her hands on her hips and scowled at him.

“I know, I fucked up,” he sighed, running a hand over his face and temporarily dislodging his glasses. “I shouldn't have said the thing about his dad.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Marinette agreed, removing her gloves, muffler, and hat. “He was really upset.”

“I’ll say,” Alya chimed in, raising her eyebrows. “Did you see his eyes? Scariest thing I’ve ever seen—I swear, his pupils narrowed into, like, _slits._ Like a…a _snake’s_. It was freaky.”

So Alya had seen that, too? Marinette checked her earlier assumption that she had imagined the look…though ‘snake’ wasn’t the animal she immediately thought of when it came to Adrien’s narrowed pupils…but perhaps ‘snake’ made more sense.

“I was just _mad,_ ” Nino defended himself, his forehead flopping down onto his crossed arms. “Haven’t seen the dude in _years_ , and _that’s_ how he greets me?”

“He was probably feeling awkward,” Alya reasoned wisely.

“You didn’t really help when you accused him of bothering me,” Marinette pointed out as she sat down across from her friends, a frown on her face. Nino gave a sigh that sounded like it was pulled from some deep part of him.

“Well, from where I was sitting…” He trailed off, propping his head up with a hand. “Nah, you know what? I’m not even gonna try and make an excuse. I wanted a reason to fight him, basically. When he saw me sitting in here, he just…looked away. Like I was _nothing._ ”

Alya squeezed his shoulder.

“You don’t need him, baby.”

“Yeah, I know.” Nino huffed again, eyes speculative as he took in Marinette. In much the same tone he used the last time he asked the question, he inquired, “…How is he?”

“Like I said: upset.” Marinette sighed and dropped her frown, settling into an anxious sadness now. “That last comment was too much, Nino. I know things between you and Adrien ended badly, but I really think you should apologize.”

“Yeah,” Nino agreed with another sigh and a bob of his head. “I really want to, now…” He cringed. “Think I can get a word in edgewise the next time I see him before he manages to take my head off?”

“Oh, yeah, he looked ready to kill you.” Abruptly, Alya’s shrewd gaze was focused on Marinette. “I’m kind of surprised you were able to keep him at bay, girl. You must be stronger than you look…”

Uh-oh.

“I just planted my feet really well, I think,” she said with a shrug, and then swiftly changed the subject. “So, are you ever going to tell us this big news, Nino, or does Alya have to stab you with a makeshift shank after all?”

She felt bad throwing Nino to the wolves, but her sympathy was being tempered by her annoyance with him at the moment, so her guilt when Alya immediately rounded on him was minimal.

“Oh, right! What is it? Spit it out already!”

“Okay, okay!” Nino cleared his throat, straightened his glasses, and beamed at them. “Guess whose sick beats just landed him a contract with Bob Ross Records?”

“You’re kidding!” Alya yelped, and then threw her arms around her boyfriend. “Nino, that’s _great!_ ”

“Congratulations!” said Marinette, beaming at the embarrassed look that crossed Nino’s face as Alya planted a bunch of kisses to his cheek in celebration. “Tell us how it happened!”

“Okay, so I’m mixin’ like usual at Blaze, right?” Nino said, pantomiming said mixing skills in front of him, as if he was currently working at Blaze, the club where he was employed as DJ. “It was standard stuff, but the crowd was bumping, so that’s all that matters. After one of my sets, though, this suit comes up to me, hands me his business card, and talks about how he’d like to hear some more of my stuff. So I send him a CD with my best mixes, and he goes _nuts._ Last week, I get a call: guess who wants to hire my awesome talent as their next big name? I just went in to sign the contract this morning.”

“And you waited _this long_ to tell me?!” Alya complained, pouting in a mock offended manner. “This is high priority stuff, mister!”

“Really? Even more important than the Ladyblog?”

“Whoa, let’s not get crazy here…”

Marinette giggled, shaking her head at their banter.

“I’m really happy for you, Nino.”

“Thanks,” Nino replied, rubbing the back of his head and grinning. “Oh, and guess what? I’m allowed to hire someone to design my first CD.” He pointed a finger gun at Marinette and winked. “Want some extra cash in your pocket?”

Marinette’s eyes lit up, but she worked to play it cool.

“That depends: how much are we talking?”

Nino tapped his chin in thought.

“I’m thinking about two-fifty euro as the commission charge, and another two-fifty when you’re finished?” He offered.

Marinette felt her jaw drop.

Holy shit…that kind of cash could have her set for a while…but…

“Will the record company be okay with you spending that kind of cash?”

“Yeah, I’m all for feeding our poor Marinette, but don’t write checks you can’t cash, Nino.”

“It’s fine, the company’s giving me a stipend,” Nino said with a wave of his hand. “And I want a quality cover, so I’ve gotta pay the quality price, right?” Marinette flushed at the compliment, and Nino grinned at her. “Whaddya say, ‘Nette? Can I count on you?”

“I think so,” Marinette agreed, grinning a little. “But I’m pretty busy at the moment, Nino—”

“No rush,” Nino assured her with a shrug of his shoulders. “The CD’s not meant to come out until after Christmas, anyway. I just wanted to put this on your radar, get my bid in for a Marinette Dupain-Cheng original cover before you become too famous and forget us little people.”

“I think you’re the one on the fast track to fame, here,” Alya teased, tapping her spoon against the empty ice cream dish in front of her, the contents long since consumed. “A toast, then! To Nino!”

“To me! But, uh, maybe we should have something to toast?”

“Mm, good point. All right, get me and Marinette a couple brownie sundaes, then.”

Nino pouted.

“Why do I have to pay?”

“Because you’re the big shot with the fancy record deal,” Alya teased with a wicked gleam in her eye as she reached across the table, slinging an arm around Marinette’s shoulders. “And me and Mari are poor, me being a journalist intern, Mari being wisely unemployed instead of working for a thieving harpy. Look at us, all pathetic and shit.”

“I’m feeling especially woe-be-gone, because I haven’t had anything sweet in the last twenty-four hours,” Marinette chimed in.  “Pleaaaaase?” She and Alya pleaded together, making their eyes wide and cute. Nino pretended to stagger, raising his hands and groaning in protest.

“Agggh, the cuteness! Can’t resist…! Ugh, all right, _fiiine._ But _just_ because I’d feel bad about letting you two starve.”

Grabbing his wallet, Nino made his way up to the counter, making sure his walk was as dramatically sluggish as possible, as if Marinette and Alya were already bleeding him dry. Marinette and Alya giggled at his antics.

“Honestly, it’s a good thing I love that boy, or I’d start to wonder why I put up with him.” Alya shook her head good-naturedly. As she looked at Marinette, however, her smile began to fade.

“What did Adrien say to you after you chased after him?” She asked in a low voice. Marinette suddenly understood that Alya had sent Nino to get them more ice cream just so she could have a moment alone with Marinette.

“Not much. Like I said, he was really upset. He wanted to be left alone, so I let him be.”

Marinette chose not to divulge that she had exchanged numbers with him. Alya may be her best friend, but Marinette didn’t like to think what she might do with such information.

Alya frowned, tucking loose hair behind her ears.

“You know, I don’t think he’s over it. What happened with his dad, I mean.”

Marinette frowned at that. “I don’t know…it might have just been the moment. Nino _really_ got under his skin. And I’m pretty sure he saw a therapist when he was younger about all this stuff.”

“Well, only the man himself knows that for sure.” Alya folded her hands under her chin, regarding Marinette in quiet concern. “Just…be careful around him, okay? He looked like he was ready to tear Nino’s throat out…and I shudder to think what he might do with a little thing like you.”

Marinette was about to point out that Alya had seen with her own eyes that Marinette was not quite that vulnerable…but then she thought better of it when she remembered the whole other can of worms the words could force open.

“I promise to be careful,” she said to put Alya’s mind at ease. Her promise was rewarded with an approving nod from her best friend.

“Good. But if you do manage to get in trouble with him…” Alya’s grin abruptly turned dangerous. “I’ve got good friends at the police department that would be willing to make some evidence “disappear”, if you know what I’m sayin’.”

“What’re you two talking about?” Nino asked, giving the girls strange looks as he set down warm brownie sundaes before them. Marinette immediately dug into hers, savoring the taste of melting chocolate and vanilla ice cream while mumbling her thanks to Nino.

“Oh, y’know—murder. The usual,” Alya said with a wink. Nino paused, and then carefully resumed his seat next to his girlfriend.

“I don’t wanna know,” he prefaced, and Marinette and Alya grinned at each other.

 

* * *

 

It so figured that the one night Marinette was able to go to bed at a reasonable hour would be the night that her phone rang shrilly at half past midnight, demanding her attention.

If this was Alya calling her over something asinine, Marinette was going to _kill_ her.

Groaning, Marinette kept her face buried in her pillow as she slapped at her nightstand, locating her phone after the fourth slap. She dragged it off the nightstand, turning to peer at it with a bleary eye.

Adrien’s name was flashing across the screen.

Frowning in confusion, Marinette sat up, clearing her throat before she hit the answer button.

“H-hello?”

“Yo,” said an unfamiliar voice from the other line, “this, uh, Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

‘ _A thief?_ ’ Marinette wondered, her brow furrowing in the dark.

“Who wants to know?” She wanted to check. The voice on the other end of the line chuckled.

“Whoa, all right girl, damn. No need to get sassy. I’m just calling to ask you to pick up your friend. Dude’s messed up bad.”

A chill ghosted down Marinette’s spine, and she was gripping the phone hard, all sleepiness vanishing on the spot.

“What do you mean, ‘messed up’?”

“I mean he’s _fucked_ up,” said the voice with a sigh. “Everyone was just trying to have a good time, but outta nowhere, he and this big asshole get into an argument at the bar, and suddenly, I’m having to pull him off of the big guy. Your friend got away with a black eye and a busted lip at most, I think, but the other guy…” The voice on the phone let out a low whistle. “Anyway, I’d call him a cab, but he’s refusing to tell anyone where he lives. I managed to get his phone, though, and you and one other chick were in his “Friends” contact list. But she didn’t pick up, so I guess he’s your responsibility now.”

Marinette stared at her pink, flower-patterned blanket for a moment.

She could have sworn she added her contact information to his “Work” contact list…

“I’ll be right there,” she said with a sigh, kicking off the blanket and searching for the sweater and jeans she had discarded earlier. “Can you give me the address?”

Twenty minutes later, Marinette was pulling into the parking lot of a seedy-looking bar. Just the sight of it made her wish she had brought Tikki along; she didn’t feel very safe being just Marinette here. But as she got out of the car, she spotted Adrien slumped on the curb nearby, an unfamiliar man sitting next to him. He glanced up as Marinette approached and got to his feet with a grunt of effort.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

“That’s me,” Marinette confirmed, glancing down at Adrien, who was refusing to look at her. The man in front of her shrugged.

“Figured it wasn’t safe to let him sit out here on his own. He looks, uh, a little _too_ ritzy for this part of town, y’know?”

Marinette nodded, appreciating this. Adrien had just been in a fight; he didn’t need to add “getting mugged” to his already crappy night.

“Have the police been called?”

“Uh-uh. Shit like this happens all the time here: if you don’t wanna get wrecked, you gotta get good.”

“Is there a tab I need to settle?”

“Nah. Apparently dude’s got a card on record. It’ll just be automatically charged.” He cupped a hand around his mouth, lowering his voice. “Watch it—guy’s got some major rage issues to work out.”

“I can _hear_ you,” Adrien finally spoke with an annoyed glance at the strange man. He gave a shrug.

“Whatever, man, I don’t know your life. I can only call it like I see it.” With another shrug and a nod to Marinette, the man disappeared back inside the bar. Marinette gave a sigh, peering down at the mess that was Adrien Agreste. At this angle, she couldn’t really see the damage, and so she crouched down, peering into his face. Adrien looked away from her, but Marinette could see the swelling of his eye and lip. Both looked pretty bad, but the man had glossed over them, stating that the other guy had been in worse shape. Marinette resisted the urge to cluck her tongue in disapproval. How on _earth_ had Adrien Agreste managed to find himself in a fight?

“Can you stand?” She asked after a quiet moment. Adrien glanced over at her with his good eye.

“…You didn’t have to come,” he grumbled. Marinette had to restrain herself from giving him a dry look. ‘ _You’re welcome,_ ’ she wanted to say…but now was probably not the time to antagonize him.

“I know,” she said instead, hands on her knees as she peered at him, worry beginning to take precedence. “Can you stand, Adrien?”

Adrien huffed, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“…Yeah,” he affirmed after a moment, and Marinette watched him stretch to his full height—well, nearly his full height. His shoulders were rounded, making him appear hunched and shorter than he actually was, and he swayed, but only a little. Marinette resolved to watch for ginger movements; it could mean bruises to his abdomen, or worse, broken ribs. Again, how did this happen? She had no earthly clue.

“Did you drive here?” Marinette asked, standing up as well. Adrien shook his head. Well, at least she didn’t have to worry about leaving his car here, then…

“Come on,” she urged him, ducking under one of his arms to support him when he leaned a little too far to one side. “I’ll drive you home.”

“You don’t have to,” Adrien grumbled, and Marinette sighed.

“I know,” she repeated, nearly half-dragging him to her car, opening the passenger door for him. “Get in the car, Adrien.”

Adrien grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, but did as he was asked, sliding carefully into the passenger seat. Marinette shut the door on him and crossed over to the driver’s side, strapping herself in and coercing him to do the same.

“Let me know if you’re gonna throw up,” she told him, and a second later, they were pulling away from the sketchy-looking bar and heading uptown.

It was a quiet ride. Adrien seemed to have nothing to say, and Marinette didn’t bother filling the space with meaningless conversation. Concern and exasperation were twisting together within her, filling her with a strange, erratic tension. Questions chased each other in her mind, each one latching onto the tail of the preceding one, writhing in circles, an ouroboros of queries:

What was Adrien doing in such a seedy bar in the first place? Why would he go to such a place as opposed to the less rough-and-tumble bars uptown? Why had he gotten into a fight with someone bigger than him that could’ve pulverized him? How did he come out the _victor_ of that fight when he clearly didn’t eat enough to pull off such a stunt? What in the world was going on in that head of his?

Marinette glanced over at him repeatedly from the corner of her eye as she drove, but Adrien just slumped against the seat, glassy eyes on the window.

When his home came into view, Marinette parked against the curb. She had just a second’s warning, as she rounded the front of her car, to see Adrien step out…and then pitch forward.

“Whoa!” She managed to catch him, hands supporting his waist as he wobbled. “Are you—”

“ _Hrk—_ ”

Adrien’s face turned a sickly shade of green, and Marinette dived out of the way, her self-preservation skills kicking in hard. Adrien fell forward onto his hands and knees, vomit spraying the road underneath him. He heaved a second time, and more came up, as if he was determined to empty the complete contents of his stomach. Marinette cringed, a hand covering her mouth.

 _Ugh._ If there were any lingering feelings within her over this mess of a human being, this sight ought to send them screaming for the hills.

“Oh, Adrien,” she sighed, taking his arm and helping him unsteadily to his feet once again. “Can you walk?”

Adrien nodded. Nevertheless, Marinette kept a careful grip on his arm as they headed up the walkway to his house, trying not to wrinkle her nose at the sour tang of vomit that now hovered over him.

Getting the door open was a bit of a struggle—Adrien seemed to have trouble getting his key into the lock, and so Marinette had to help him while supporting him, the whole process taking a lot longer than it should have. When they did finally stumble through the threshold, Adrien looked ready to pass out, and so Marinette steered him to the nearest bathroom she could find, which was about halfway down the hall into the foyer.

Adrien’s home was beautifully decorated, retaining much of the beauty of his childhood home…but there was something about the air that was a little colder than the Agreste Mansion. Marinette didn’t have time to ponder on it, however—she carefully lowered Adrien onto the floor of the bathroom, resting his back against the tub. She grabbed a hand towel from an awaiting rack and wet it with cold water, pressing it to his face to wipe the sweat and vomit from him.

“Are you gonna pass out?” She asked him, giving him an anxious look as she rinsed off the towel and pressed it to his neck next. Adrien shook his head, his nonverbal response concerning her. “Are you sure?”

“M’fine,” Adrien grumbled, reaching up to push damp hair out of his face. He glanced down at himself, making a face at the stained coat and shirt he wore. “I’m gonna go change—”

“I can get a new shirt for you,” Marinette insisted, firm hands holding his shoulders down. “Where’s your bedroom?”

Adrien shut his eyes, frowning.

“Upstairs,” he said after a moment. “First door on the right.”

“Got it.”

‘ _Well, if he’s coherent enough to give directions, I guess it won’t be too bad to leave him alone for a few seconds…_ ’ Marinette reasoned with herself as she left the bathroom, still marveling at the fact that she was on drunk babysitting duty for Adrien Agreste. She still hurried as she climbed the stairs two at a time, heading into his bedroom. She had never been in here before…but the memory of the last time she had seen it had Marinette searching for the closet quickly, spying two large doors to the left of her that looked promising. She opened them up to find…another bathroom. Great.

There were cabinets in this bathroom, though. Marinette moved forward, ignoring the large and gorgeous tub sunken in the middle of the bathroom, opening the cabinets at random until she found what she was looking for—a drawer full of T-shirts that would work just fine. She selected a black one and shut the drawer, inwardly reflecting on how ironic it was for Adrien to have all these shirts, and yet she’d seen him shirtless twice now. It was ridiculous.

“Adrien,” she called as she jumped the last few stairs, heading back to the bathroom she’d left him in. Her fingertips slid over the knob as she called, “I have another shirt for—”

She opened the door a crack—only to have the sound of the shower starting greeting her. With a yelp, Marinette slammed it shut again, gawking at the door. What was he doing?!

“Adrien?! I _really_ don’t think it’s a good idea for you to shower when you can’t even stand up by yourself!” She called over the sound of running water, her teeth worrying her lip as she stared at the door. What if something happened? What if he slipped and hit his head, knocking him unconscious, and his body blocked the drain, which made the water from the shower fill the tub, and he drowned while she was standing just outside the door?!

“I’m fine, Marinette,” Adrien’s voice answered, a bite of impatience in his tone. “I’ll be quick. I just don’t want to smell like puke for the rest of the night.”

“But—”

“Just leave the shirt on the counter,” Adrien commanded, and Marinette frowned. She _still_ thought this was a bad idea…but as long as she stayed nearby, she’d hear if any commotion went down, right? Taking a deep breath, she took hold of the doorknob once again. Okay…she could do this…

“All right. I’m coming in.”

Marinette carefully eased the door open, squinting her eyes shut to prevent her from seeing anything she shouldn’t see. The curtain was drawn around the tub, hiding Adrien from view, and she breathed a little easier, setting the neatly folded shirt down onto the counter for him. She made a face at the clothes strewn about on the floor, biting her lip again.

“Uh…do you want me to do something with your clothes on the floor?”

There was a sigh, and the curtain twitched.

“I’ll take care of it, Mari. You don’t have to pick up after me.”

That was true—she wasn’t the maid. Just a concerned…friend? Could she call him that yet? Sure, she had said as much to Chat Noir when talking about Adrien, but that was so the stupid stray would get off her back. As things stood now, could she really consider Adrien Agreste a friend…?

“I’m gonna get some ice ready for your eye,” Marinette announced, backing out of the bathroom now. There was another sigh from behind the curtain.

“Marinette—”

“Meet me in the living room when you’re done,” Marinette talked over his complaint, shutting the door so he couldn’t say any more on the subject…not where she could hear, anyway. A part of her panicked at leaving him to his own devices, but he said he’d be quick—if he wasn’t done in ten minutes, she’d just go get him.

Trying to assure herself with that thought, Marinette set about exploring the rest of his home.

The living room was sumptuously decorated in plush, dark furniture, the thick carpet shaded in ochre. Large, golden, luxurious curtains framed even larger windows, which had a gorgeous view of the garden out front. It looked as if the living room had been decorated with an Egyptian prince in mind. Idly, Marinette wondered if Adrien had selected everything himself before she remembered her current mission was ice. Shaking her head at herself, she moved on through the living room, in the direction she hoped was the kitchen.

Nope. Dining room. But she was getting closer.

Marinette eyed the dark dining room for a moment, the large table surrounded by six hard-backed chairs catching her attention. It was a bit too big for someone who lived here alone, wasn’t it…?

‘ _Maybe he has a lot of dinner parties here with a bunch of important work people,_ ’ Marinette reasoned, shrugging and heading on to—ah-ha, the kitchen at last. It was as industrial as she was expecting, everything done in stainless steel and dark granite. Marinette glanced at the high-tech appliances with a raised eyebrow. Surely Adrien wasn’t that accomplished of a chef? Maybe he had someone come during the day and make meals for him…when he wasn’t running around being Mr. Model/CEO of his own company, anyway…

Marinette moved over to the refrigerator—holy crap, it was so much bigger than her, was having such a large fridge even _necessary?_ —and pulled open the freezer. To her surprise, there were a stack of ice packs just inside a shelf on the door. Huh. And here she was, certain that she’d have to MacGyver one out of whatever materials she could find…

“Marinette?”

Marinette jumped at the voice that called out to her. Wow, he _had_ been quick.

“Coming!” She answered, hastily grabbing one of the ice packs, finding it already full and ready to go. How convenient.

Rushing out of the kitchen and through the dining room, Marinette reentered the living room and found Adrien perched on the end of one of the lounge couches. He was dressed in the T-shirt Marinette had retrieved for him, and the jeans he’d been wearing earlier; they were miraculously vomit-free. A towel was slung around his neck, and though his hair dripped onto it, it was still styled perfectly. That kind of annoyed Marinette, but she kept the urge to ruffle his hair out of spite at bay.

The living room was dark; Adrien probably left it so because the light would irritate his eyes. He simply stared at the floor as she approached, using the light from the hall as a guide, ice pack in hand.

“Here,” she said, reaching out automatically to lift his chin. He didn’t resist her touch, and she cringed at the sight of his eye, which was beginning to turn purple.

“Oh, Adrien,” she sighed again, pressing the ice pack as gently as she could to his swollen eye. Adrien winced, but made no noise of complaint. His lip looked like it needed attention, too. She really should’ve grabbed two ice packs instead of one. “What happened to you?”

Adrien managed a shrug, his good eye glancing away from her.

“It’s not a big deal. Things just got a little out of hand. Guess I drank too much to realize what I was doing.”

Marinette frowned.

“You seem perfectly coherent right now.”

Adrien shrugged again.

“Got most of the alcohol out of my system at this point, I think. The shower helped.”

Marinette sighed and shook her head.

“Never would’ve taken you for a fighter,” she admitted, disapproval coloring her tone. “The guy who called me to come pick you up said he had to pull you off some guy.”

“I was drunk,” Adrien reminded her, not meeting her eyes. Marinette felt her brows furrow deeper.

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s the only thing going on here,” she said. She removed the ice pack from Adrien’s face for a moment, just to peer into his eyes, though his bruised one was swelling shut. “What happened earlier really upset you, didn’t it? With Nino.”

Adrien flinched at the name, and looked away from her.

“I’m over it.”

“Really? Starting fights in shady bars is what you call ‘over it’?”

“Butt out, Marinette,” Adrien grumbled, pulling his chin out of her grasp with a scowl. “You’re not my mother.”

“No, but I _am_ worried.”

“Why should you be?”

“Because the way you dealt with your anger tonight wasn’t healthy!” Marinette huffed, resting her free hand on her hip. “You can’t just go starting fights with strangers—you’ll get yourself killed!”

“I doubt it,” Adrien replied in what was unmistakably an obstinate tone. Marinette had to restrain herself from hitting him over the head in frustration.

“Adrien,” she began lowly, waiting until he looked at her. “I think you need help.”

Adrien scowled, his eyes tightening.

“I’m f—” He broke off in a hiss when Marinette pressed the ice pack to his swollen eye once again. She raised an eyebrow.

“Really? Because that’s not the case from where I’m standing.”

Adrien said nothing. Marinette let him be for a moment, marshalling her thoughts. She didn’t want to set him off further…but this _had_ to be addressed, didn’t it? She couldn’t very well just stand by and let him punch his feelings out on other people, could she?

“…You’re not your father, Adrien.”

He hunched, as if he wished to make himself smaller again.

“I know.” The words were halfway between a growl of frustration and a sigh of defeat. Marinette cautiously proceeded.

“…But you seem to worry about becoming him,” she said gently, her free hand lifting Adrien’s chin when he lowered it, to keep the ice pack in its proper place. “I can’t say I know how…complicated…your relationship with him was…but I thought you already saw someone about this?”

If this was just a slip, Marinette wasn’t judging him. Getting over who his father was and what he had done…it couldn’t be easy. But it felt like it went so much deeper than that, so deep that Marinette was worried about Adrien’s well-being. How okay could he be if he was starting bar brawls with random strangers?

Adrien gave a grunt as Marinette shifted the ice pack on his face.

“Who said I already saw someone about it?” He mumbled, seemingly to himself.

Marinette opened her mouth to retort—and then shut it just as quickly. Because he raised a very good point—who said he had actually gotten help for this years ago? That’s what he told Ladybug, sure…but as much as Marinette didn’t want to consider it, he could have been lying. Either way, she couldn’t call him on it, since it was information she _wasn’t supposed to have._

Marinette moved the ice pack again to pierce him with a serious look.

“I think it’s time you went to see somebody, then.” She said. “You’re clearly not dealing with it on your own very well.”

Adrien frowned.

“It’s not a big deal,” he tried to insist again, despite Marinette rolling her eyes. “As soon as the swelling goes down, make up will cover the rest of the bruising. It’s not like I have to stop working or anything—”

“I’m not talking about your _job_ , Mr. Model,” Marinette huffed at him, “I don’t care about that. What I _do_ care about is the fact that you got _hurt_ in a fight that shouldn’t have even _happened._ Did that guy you beat up even provoke you at all?”

Adrien’s brow puckered at that, lips pursing in thought.

“He… _may_ have looked at me funny.”

“He _may_ have?”

“It’s kind of blurry now, honestly.”

Marinette stared at Adrien for so long that he had to be the one to glance away first, his expression warping into sheepishness.

“…I suppose I could’ve left it alone,” he admitted after a quiet moment. Annoyed, Marinette shook her head at him.

“Adrien, this is not okay. Seriously, I’m worried about you.”

Adrien stared up at her as she shifted the ice pack briefly to rest where his lip was swelling. Though his left eye was nothing but a puffy slit now, he still managed to pin her with a gaze so intense that she could almost feel its weight settle onto her shoulders. After a moment, his lips parted.

“Why…?”

The question was honestly curious…with a little bit of wonder mixed in. Marinette stared down at him, blinking perplexed eyes. ‘Why?’ Did he really have to ask?

Apparently so—the incomprehension in his expression made it clear that he could not fathom her reasons for caring. And that reaction caused a small fissure to crack its way through Marinette’s heart. Suddenly she had her answer on the 'friends or not' debate.

She _did_ hit him this time: the palm of her free hand smacked into the crown of his head lightly. Despite the love tap, he still winced. Marinette smiled apologetically.

“Because we’re friends, you dork,” she told him, the words confident and strong. “That’s enough of a reason, isn’t it?”

The look of wonder, just a spark before in Adrien’s eyes, evolved into something much stronger: an explosion of awe. Adrien’s mouth actually popped open, his face turning rosy. It was as if Marinette had just given him the moon on a string, and he was rendered speechless in gratitude.

Marinette hated herself for blushing, and in her annoyance, she poked one of his blushing cheeks to get rid of that _not adorable at all_ look on his face.

“What? This really isn’t a surprise to you, is it? Why else would I put up with you?” She teased him.

Slowly, a corner of Adrien’s mouth quirked up.

“…Does this mean I’m forgiven for being rude to you during our first fashion meeting?” He wanted to check. Abruptly, Marinette was struck with the realization that her anger at him was still bothering him. Wow, he really _had_ taken her seriously, hadn’t he…?

“I think so,” Marinette allowed, rewarded briefly with a grin that flashed across Adrien’s face before she held up a finger. “On one condition.”

“Uh-oh,” Adrien mumbled, his grin fading. “It’s not a lifetime of servitude, is it?”

“You wish you were so lucky,” Marinette couldn’t help but tease him. But soon, her smirk disappeared as well. “Ultimately, this is your decision, Adrien. And I have no right to police you or tell you what to do. But what I _do_ want is for you at least _try_ therapy. I want you to have a safe space, and have someone to talk to about your problems.”

Adrien nearly pouted.

“Why can’t I just talk to you?” He asked. Marinette smiled a little at that.

“While I appreciate the faith you’re putting in me…I think this goes beyond my pay grade,” she stated. “I’m only a fashion designer, after all.”

“You’re a _great_ fashion designer,” Adrien corrected her, and Marinette’s smile returned.

“Well, thank you. But don’t change the subject: I think it would help for you to see a therapist. And I know a good one…if you’re willing to at least give it a shot.”

She shrugged, the movement at odds with the concentrated way she watched his face, taking in every little change in his expression.

“Will you give it a chance? In the name of our friendship?”

Adrien regarded her steadily, blinking slowly.

“…This is blackmail, isn’t it?”

Marinette smiled in a guilty fashion.

“Think of it more like a strong suggestion,” she encouraged. Adrien chuckled, and Marinette waited, holding her breath.

“…Okay,” Adrien said after a long silence. As relief washed through Marinette, he smiled. “I only have to agree to try, right?”

“That’s all I want,” Marinette assured him with a nod. “If it’s not for you, I’ll leave it alone.” Her brow furrowed. “But I’d really feel better if you talked to someone, instead of carrying all your problems on your own.”

“Keep in mind that I have to _pay_ this person to listen to me complain,” Adrien reminded her, taking the ice pack from her and holding it to his own eye now. Marinette shrugged with a smile.

“While the money does help, I doubt he’d mind listening to you complain even off the clock.”

Adrien began to frown.

“And who is this therapist you’re so gung-ho about?”

Marinette gave a mysterious smile.

“If I can manage to get you an appointment this week, you’ll find out,” she promised.

 

* * *

 

“You didn’t say it’d be _today._ ”

“He was available faster than I was expecting.”

“But did you have to make it for _today?_ ”

Marinette turned, hands on her hips as she frowned up at him. Adrien eyed her expression through his sunglasses warily, wondering if she was about to snap at him. He really didn’t need to be fussed at today—his head was pounding, his swollen eye ached, and Marinette’s fireball energy wasn’t going to help matters much.

Almost as if she knew he was suffering, she huffed, her expression softening.

“You said you’d give this a chance,” she reminded him. Adrien frowned from behind his sunglasses.

“And I’m still willing. Just not when I’m hungover,” he grumbled.

“You’ll live,” Marinette insisted, taking hold of his wrist and dragging him into the building. “Come on.”

Adrien sighed, staring at the back of Marinette’s pink snow hat as she marched ahead of him. She was rather pushy when she wanted to be, hmm? Of course, he’d learned that the hard way several times over already, but it still managed to astound him, sometimes. She was nothing like the girl he’d known back at Dupont, save for her seemingly limitless kindness. That Marinette had been shy and soft-spoken around him, nothing like the spitfire that marched him into the building now, approaching the secretary in the lobby immediately, all confidence in her strut.

Adrien had to admit that, for reasons he didn’t quite comprehend, he was a little fonder of this Marinette.

“Hi, we’re here to see Dr. Bruel? Dupain-Cheng, nine o’ clock appointment.”

The secretary asked them to wait on the couch. As they sat, Adrien frowned, trying to stir his sluggish brain into action. Bruel…he knew that name…

His mind was refusing to cooperate, sadly. But when he asked Marinette, all she did was smile that mysterious little smile from the night before. It kind of felt like Adrien was being set up…but for what, he didn’t know. He opened his mouth to ask again, considering walking out if Marinette didn’t give him a proper answer, when the secretary announced that Dr. Bruel was free to see them now.

Again, Marinette took him by the wrist, leading him to the door where Dr. Bruel’s office sat behind. She paused, her hand on the door handle, blue eyes peering up at him in inquiry. Adrien took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and gave a nod. She smiled encouragingly at him, and then pushed the door open.

The office was pleasantly warm, not stifling like most buildings this time of year. It was the standard psychiatrists’ room, Adrien thought: plaques and diplomas on the wall, a couple of comfortable-looking armchairs, and of course, the obligatory _chaise longue_. What Adrien _didn’t_ expect was the large figure that got to his feet from behind his large desk, smiling in welcome, the smile just a touch shy. He was dressed professionally in a white button-down shirt and black slacks, his hair combed back and completely dark…save for one small streak of blonde Adrien could just make out.

Adrien could only gape, but Marinette released his wrist and threw her arms around the figure.

“Hi, Ivan! Long time no see!”

He patted Marinette’s back fondly.

“Yeah, no kidding. How’re you, Marinette?”

“I’m good,” Marinette allowed, pulling back to stare up at Ivan, who dwarfed her by an amount so large it was almost comical. “Work is work, school is school, you know? Not that you have to worry about school anymore, Mr. Early Graduate Valedictorian.”

Ivan laughed a little, his cheeks heating.

“It sounds a little embarrassing when you say it like that,” he said. Glancing up, he seemed to take note of Adrien. “But you’re not here for a social call, right?”

“True.” Marinette turned back around, heading back to Adrien and resting a hand on his bicep. “Recognize this guy?”

“Of course.” Ivan approached, his size intimidating to all who didn’t know him. For his part, Adrien was merely bemused as Ivan extended one of his large hands. “Nice to see you again, Adrien.”

“Uh, same,” Adrien replied, shaking hands. “Though I, uh, didn’t realize it was you I’d be seeing…”

He slanted a glance Marinette’s way from behind his sunglasses, and she just smiled again.

“Yeah, I get that a lot. A lot of people from my past are surprised when I tell them I’m a shrink now.”

Adrien’s eyebrows quirked.

“You call yourself a ‘shrink’?”

“Why not?” Ivan allowed with a small smile. “It’s just a word. Nothing to get upset over.”

Huh. Adrien remembered all too clearly a time where Ivan had been vulnerable enough to let such taunting words get under his skin, the words so effective that he had turned to stone and terrorized a bewildered Paris for the first time…

But Adrien didn’t see Stoneheart now.

He saw Ivan Bruel, a former classmate-turned-therapist. Someone who, apparently, wanted to help him.

He wasn’t yet sure how to feel about all this.

Marinette didn’t seem to care about his uneasiness, however; after a second, she ducked around the two men, heading for the door.

“Well, I’m only in the way here. I’ll let you two get reacquainted and…talk.”

Adrien’s eyes widened behind his sunglasses, gaping at her.

She was just _leaving_ him here??

“Marinette—” He began, but Marinette was already in the waiting room, closing the door behind her. She popped her head back in to give him another encouraging smile.

“You’ll be fine,” she promised him. “I’ll see you later!”

And before he could think of anything to say to call her back, Marinette left, the door shutting behind her with a final-sounding ‘click!’

Silence filled the room. Adrien didn’t know what to do with himself, so he merely stood there, arms hanging awkwardly at his sides, feeling very much like a cat trapped in a cage.

He wasn’t sure whether or not Ivan picked up on his tension, but he moved away either way, settling himself into one of the armchairs away from his desk.

“Do you want to sit down?” He offered, waving to the armchair next to him rather than the chaise. A small part of Adrien appreciated that; he was already uncertain about this idea, and lying down on a couch wouldn’t help matters.

Adrien folded himself into the armchair opposite Ivan, taking in the large man before him. Silence settled between them once again.

“…So…is this the part where I spill my guts or something…?” Adrien asked, falling back on humor to mask his discomfort. Ivan smiled a little.

“You can take your time. Marinette booked you for an hour,” he said.

Adrien grimaced.

“And how much am I paying for this hour?”

“Well, Marinette told me you were a little unsure about this,” Ivan said, nodding thoughtfully. “I don’t really feel good about charging you for something you’re not committed to, yet…so today, it’s free.”

Adrien felt his eyebrows creep into his hairline.

“Is that okay?”

“Sure,” Ivan allowed, folding his hands in his lap. “Consider it a favor for an old friend.”

There that word was again. ‘Friend’.

And just like the night before, Adrien felt himself flush at the label.

Clearing his throat, he moved on in an attempt to distract himself.

“Marinette asked me to come here as a favor to her,” he prefaced. Ivan laughed.

“I’m not surprised. She’s really driven when she sets her mind to something.”

“Yeah,” Adrien agreed, sighing and rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s something else…”

“Do you want to talk about Marinette today?” Ivan asked, surprising Adrien.

What? Why would he want to talk about Marinette?

“Nothing really much to say,” Adrien said, frowning at the way Ivan was looking at him—expectantly, like he had already made up his mind on what Adrien felt, when he himself didn’t even know. Frowning now, Adrien added, “I’m not really sure if I wanna talk about anything at all.”

“That’s fine,” Ivan said, and Adrien stared at him. “We can talk about nothing, too.”

“We can?”

“Sure,” Ivan answered again, smiling. “Whatever you want, whenever you’re ready.”

Honestly, Adrien didn’t think he was ‘ready’ for anything, in regards to what therapy involved.

But…he wouldn’t know until he tried, would he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERAPIST IVAN.
> 
> FUCKING FIGHT ME. (ง'̀-'́)ง
> 
> Also, Adrien still being a dork about having actual friends is my kryptonite. HRK.
> 
> We're getting somewhere, yay! Next chapter will involve Adrien's POV exclusively, so we can get a glimpse into what the fuck is wrong with this boy. :P
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	10. Recovery pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YO. READ THIS FIRST BEFORE PROCEEDING TO THE CHAPTER.
> 
> So I’mma need y’all to sit down for a second so I can be stern Reyna for a minute and address something that’s been bothering me:
> 
> Look, guys, I love seeing your reactions when I update. Really, I do. While I do primarily write for myself, your feedback makes it more enjoyable.
> 
> Things I do not enjoy: being asked to update.
> 
> Things I REALLY do not enjoy: being asked to update THE DAY AFTER I UPLOAD A CHAPTER.
> 
> Come on, guys. I update fairly regularly. Some of you even say so yourselves. So why the hell do you think it’s okay to ask me for another one the day after I upload a chapter?
> 
> Let me explain something to you: despite all appearances, I am not a writing machine. I have a life outside of this work of fiction, and I am allowed to take all the time I need to work on said work of fiction—especially because I’m doing this for fun. You asking me to update, however, makes it feel like less fun, and more of an obligation. I am a grown ass woman. I do not need more obligations. Do not ask me to update.
> 
> Repeat after me: “Reyna does not like being told what to do. Being told to update makes Reyna bitchier than usual. If I don’t want to piss Reyna off, I will wait patiently for the next chapter when she’s ready to upload it.”
> 
> I’ve already addressed a few of you that have made this mistake. I would rather not have to keep doing it. So spread the word if you need to: “Reyna is a bitch when it comes to being told to update.” 
> 
> Go ahead, you can say ‘bitch’. I don’t mind—it’s true.
> 
> And I will get petty: the more I’m barked at to update, the less I’ll feel like doing it. I could finish the story and never post the end, and be just fine. Please do not test me.
> 
> Now, that being said, here are examples of comments I DO appreciate:
> 
> “Can’t wait for the next chapter!”  
> “I’m eager to see what happens next!”  
> “OH MY GOD I’M DYING REYNA WHY”
> 
> All acceptable comments. I like these: they’re just the right amount of eager with no pressure put upon me. (And the last one makes me laugh.)
> 
> Here are comments to AVOID posting:
> 
> “Please update soon!”  
> “When is your next update?!”  
> “OH MY GOD REYNA UPDATE ALREADY I’M DYING OVER HERE”
> 
> With just two words, the last comment is transformed from hilarious to obnoxious. Don’t do this. Do not ask me to update.
> 
> I’ve seen this happen already with some of my favorite ML fanfics—the writers have to plead with the readers to calm the fuck down, that they’re doing their best, and to please, please, please not ask them to update faster.
> 
> I’m not that nice.
> 
> I will not plead with you. This is a warning.
> 
> Hate to be stern with y’all, but it needs to be done. Like I said, I’m a grown-ass woman. Up with this bullshit I will not put.
> 
> Do. Not. Ask. Me. To. Update.
> 
> You’ll get the new chapter when you get the new chapter.
> 
> If something comes up where I can’t update for a while, I will post on my tumblr and TELL you.
> 
> Do not come barking into my comments asking where the new chapter is.
> 
> I WILL get pissed, and I WILL get petty.
> 
> TL;DR: DO NOT ASK ME TO UPDATE. PERIOD.
> 
> Okay, rant over. Now that you’ve all been sufficiently warned, here’s the new chapter.
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

** Week One **

What was he doing here again?

As many times as he asked himself this question, the answer kept eluding him.

Adrien sighed. He felt foolish—after Ivan was nice enough not to charge him after the first session, where they indeed talked about nothing in particular—here he sat, not saying one word, wasting Ivan’s time and his own money.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t _want_ to talk. After all, reflecting on his actions last week, Adrien had to admit that Marinette had a point—the way he’d dealt with his anger after Nino had accused him of becoming his father was nowhere near healthy.

In fact, since that night, a video of his…“antics”…had surfaced on the internet, effectively damaging the reputation he was working so hard to protect. His lawyers were working on it, they assured him, but for every video they managed to get taken down, three more popped up in its place, a stubborn Hydra of media. Though Adrien had already settled out of court with the victim of his spleen, he was still embarrassed; bad publicity could ruin him, if he wasn’t careful.

This sobering event made Adrien realize that, even if he didn’t _want_ to, he _had_ to admit that he could use someone’s help to work out this ball of rage that had festered within him for so long.

But whenever he thought about addressing the issues that were truly bothering him, his tongue curled in on itself, and he couldn’t get the words out, no matter how hard he tried.

So he just sat, staring at his folded hands, hating himself and his weakness.

The best (or worst) part was that Ivan did not push him.

After about twenty minutes of silence, he just asked if Adrien wanted to listen to some music.

“What’re you in the mood for?” Ivan asked, after Adrien had nodded his agreement, once he’d gotten over his shock. Adrien frowned.

“I don’t know…”

“Something peaceful? Or something energizing, maybe?”

Adrien raised an eyebrow.

“Do you only have playlists based on description words?”

“Yep,” Ivan affirmed, turning his computer monitor around for Adrien to see. Indeed, he had playlists that were labeled with description words and names of emotions alone, rather than any kind of genre or favorites. Intrigued, Adrien, with Ivan’s permission, scrolled through the playlists until he became overwhelmed with just _how many_ there were, and settled for the playlist labeled “Tranquil”.

Soft piano music filled the room, thanks to speakers hooked up in all the corners, and Adrien resumed his seat in the armchair, sitting back and closing his eyes, letting the music wash over him. Of their own accord, his fingers began to play along to the melody in the air, and he breathed deeply. Okay, he had to admit it—while it might be unorthodox…this was nice.

“Uh,” Ivan said after a moment, and Adrien tensed, reluctantly opening his eyes to find Ivan looking sheepish. “Sorry for asking—and you can say no, since this is your time—but I was wondering…would it be okay if I worked on something right now? I’ve been struggling a bit, and this music is really inspiring…but I’m here for you first and foremost, and if you’d rather I didn’t—”

“Go ahead,” Adrien allowed, intrigued by the relief that washed over Ivan’s face.

“Thanks. Just let me know when you want me to stop,” he said, drawing out a leather-bound journal from his desk. He raised a pen to his chin, frowning thoughtfully at the ceiling for a moment. And then, once the tip of the pen touched down upon the paper, he began to write so feverishly that it was like he was possessed, his eyes zooming across the paper, ink smudging his fingers as he crossed out certain lines and revised.

Adrien leaned forward, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“What’re you writing?”

Ivan looked up, his face suddenly red.

“Ah…my wedding vows,” he admitted in a small voice. Adrien blinked at him.

“You’re getting married?”

“Urm, yeah. To Mylene.” Ivan poked his two pointer fingers together, looking very shy. “We announced our engagement last summer. The wedding’ll take place this spring.”

Adrien felt his mouth come open.

That…damn it, he had to say it—

“That’s _adorable,_ ” he enthused, grinning so wide that it seemed to startle Ivan. But he smiled in return, his face growing redder.

“Th-thanks…” He cleared his throat, tapping his pen against his journal. “We agreed to write our own vows last month. But the problem is…I’m always unsatisfied with what I write.” Ivan frowned down at his journal. “Nothing seems like it’s good enough. We’ve been together a long time…and I’m not really sure how to put so much love in just a few lines of vows…”

Oh no, _they were so cute._ Adrien felt his inner romantic, all but forgotten, stir at the sight before him. Ivan was struggling, wondering which way was the best way to express his heartfelt adoration for his fiancée—how could Adrien just sit there and watch?

“Simple is usually better,” he advised, interlocking his fingers under his chin as he smiled at Ivan. “Of course, you know your relationship better than I do. What makes Mylene’s heart stir?”

“The little things,” Ivan answered immediately, and a small smile lit up his features as his fingertips brushed against a photo frame on his desk; Adrien was willing to bet Mylene’s picture was in there. “She likes it when I bring home flowers for no reason at all, or when I fold the laundry after it’s done when she falls asleep on the couch, waiting for the dryer to finish.”

Adrien could see, in his mind’s eye, this warm little home Ivan and Mylene had created together: Ivan’s “just because” flowers sitting on the dining table that was big enough for just the two of them, Mylene napping on the couch because it was a lazy Sunday and she was entitled to rest, Ivan sitting near her and folding the laundry with care, maybe glancing every now and then at her sleeping face and smiling…

It was so cute Adrien felt he might develop diabetes from such sweetness.

“But,” Ivan began, and Adrien brought himself back to witness the slight frown on Ivan’s face, making him look scarier than he actually was. “Wedding vows…they’re a little different, aren’t they? It’s part of this whole big deal, where we stand up and declare our love for one another in front of all our friends and family…I can’t help but think that they have to be perfect…I don’t want to disappoint her…”

The crestfallen look that briefly crossed Ivan’s face hit Adrien harder than expected. Reacting on instinct alone, he got up and rounded the desk, patting Ivan’s shoulder.

“I don’t think you could ever disappoint Mylene,” Adrien said honestly, smiling a little when Ivan glanced up at him. “And it’s true, weddings are made into a huge deal…but after all the flowers wilt and the nice clothes are put away…you have _marriage_ to look forward to. And I think that should be your end game. The wedding is just one day. Your marriage is the rest of your lives. Prioritize, Ivan.”

“Hmm…” After a moment, Ivan smiled. “That makes a lot of sense. Thanks, Adrien.”

“Of course. What are friends for?” Adrien dared to say, and was rewarded with the affirming nod Ivan gave him.

“That’s true.” His expression crumpled. “Although, now I feel bad…these sessions are supposed to be about helping you…”

Ah. Right.

Adrien’s shoulders slumped, and he slunk back to his armchair, folding in on himself.

“I don’t mind,” he said truthfully. “Helping you out makes me feel like this isn’t such a waste of time…”

Belatedly, he realized that his words were unintentionally cutting, and he winced at the implication that Ivan was to blame for time being wasted in this office.

But Ivan only shrugged, hardly ruffled.

“Well, if you don’t mind,” he said, smiling a little. “Er…can I keep going?”

“Sure.” Adrien nodded, and Ivan’s smile widened before he turned his attention back to his journal. And for the rest of the hour, Adrien fluctuated between watching him write, helping out with a suggested synonym or two, and losing himself in the peaceful music that surrounded him.

In the waiting room, the secretary asked him if he would like to make another appointment with Dr. Bruel.

‘ _No, thanks. I don’t think this is for me after all._ ’

The words were on the tip of his tongue…but then Adrien remembered the thoughtful frown Ivan wore as he concentrated, pen scrawling across pages and pages—he was up to five by the time the hour was up, something that impressed Adrien. It would be a shame for him to become discouraged while writing his vows again…

“…Okay,” he ended up saying instead, and the secretary penciled him in for next Wednesday at nine in the morning. A bit bewildered at himself, Adrien shrugged into his coat, tying his scarf securely around his throat. What was he doing? It really was a waste if he wasn’t even going to _try_ to work on his issues, wasn’t it? What was the point of keeping up pretenses when he was just gonna sit there and listen to music for an hour?

Marinette suddenly flashed through his mind. Adrien paused just outside the office, frowning as he imagined her patient smile and expectant blue eyes, eyes that believed in him, that somehow believed he could be better than even he believed of himself…

Adrien’s shoulders slumped, and he sighed.

He would try again.

He had promised her he would, hadn’t he?

 

* * *

 

** Week Two **

Today’s playlist was labeled “Lighthearted”.

Whimsical music flowed through the room, and Adrien smiled, reclining sideways in his armchair as he was caught in between the desire to lounge and the fierce refusal to actually stretch out on the ‘shrink couch’. One of his fingers twirled through the air at the music, and he snickered to himself, remembering his run this morning with Marinette. She was probably annoyed with him right now, but it had been so very, very worth it—

“What’s funny?”

Adrien glanced up, finding that Ivan had paused his writing in the armchair next to him to give him a curious look.

Grinning, Adrien decided to oblige him.

“Found out something funny about Marinette today,” he said, sitting up. “We go running in the mornings sometimes. Today was a little warmer than usual, so I dragged her out of bed, and we stopped by her parents’ bakery for breakfast.”

“Lucky,” Ivan sighed, resting his head in a hand. “Their croissants are the best.”

“Definitely,” Adrien agreed. He pulled his legs up onto the chair cushion now, folding them and leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “So I’m talking with Sabine—her mom—and she’s telling me stories about how Mari was as a kid. Apparently, her first word was “bun”, and Tom was super proud.”

Ivan chuckled.

“That’s cute.”

“It’s _bun_ -believable,” Adrien punned automatically. Ivan snorted.

“Bet Marinette didn’t like that joke.”

“I just thought of it,” Adrien admitted, expression souring immediately. “ _Damn_ it. I missed such a good opportunity.”

“Maybe you can tell her next time you see her.”

“Aw, but it’s too late, now! It won’t have the same effect!” Adrien tugged his phone out of his pocket and stared down at it, the urge to text Marinette the bun pun burning so fiercely that it was a physical struggle for him to keep his fingers still. Even if he did text her, there was no guarantee that she would respond, and he wanted to see her face when he made such a joke. Ugh, he just _had_ to think of it hours later…he was losing his touch.

“So you see a lot of Marinette these days, hmm?” Ivan asked, setting his pen down. Adrien tilted his head slightly.

“Well, kind of. The morning runs aside, my company’s working with her university on a fashion project, so she has to meet with me twice a month to discuss her progress.” Adrien warmed in delight at the thought of their most recent meeting. “She’s making a Chat Noir-inspired costume that’s so _badass._ I’m excited to see it finished.”

“Chat Noir fan?”

Yes, what was so wrong with that? Adrien was about to confirm that…but there was a slight crease between Ivan’s brows that made him pause. What was with that look…?

“You’re…not?” He guessed. Ivan gave a heavy sigh.

“I mean…I used to like the guy. How could you not? He was a hero.” Ivan’s gaze dropped to his journal. “But now…he scares me.”

Adrien stared.

“He scares _you?_ ” The incredulous note in his tone was no doubt unappreciated, but Ivan merely shrugged, glancing up at Adrien again.

“Well, yeah. His attitude towards akuma victims and his influence are scary.” Ivan’s frown deepened. “I don’t know what happened to change him…but the guy saved my life, once. I thought he was the coolest guy ever.

“But now, how do I know that he wouldn’t rip right through me if he saw me on the street? Or…” Ivan’s hand closed into a fist, and he suddenly looked just as threatening as his size would suggest. “Or what if Mylene ran into him in a dark alleyway? What if, instead of us, he only saw the akuma we once were?”

Adrien was very aware of the way his heart beat in his chest, pounding out a war cry.

‘ _I would_ never _do that!_ ’ Half of him wanted to cry.

‘ _Once an akuma, always an akuma,_ ’ the darker half of him hissed.

The confliction threatened to rip him in two.

How could he insist that no such thing would happen when, a couple days ago, he had fought his hardest against Ladybug to end an akuma’s rage on _his_ terms?

How could he assert that Ivan and Mylene were a different case, when he was so ready to condemn people like Alya and Nino?

 _“How can you sit there and judge_ anyone _for wanting the power to change their life with this ring on your finger?”_

Adrien shivered. Marinette, though she was unaware of it, had embedded a seed of doubt so far within him that, despite his best efforts to claw it out, it had stubbornly lodged itself in a crevice within him, making it unreachable.

And it was taking root.

Ivan’s fear only added salt to the wound, nutrients feeding the accursed seed.

Adrien’s distress must have shown on his face, for Ivan changed the subject.

“I’m kinda surprised you and Marinette have gotten so close,” he admitted, jarring Adrien out of his thoughts with Marinette’s name. “Back in Dupont, she kinda just froze up around you…”

“Oh…yeah…”

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. He knew now why that was, of course—Marinette had had a huge, debilitating crush on him that prevented her from being herself around him. But Ivan didn’t seem to know that, and Adrien was just a tad uncomfortable about divulging such information. It really wasn’t his secret to tell, was it?

Just as he resolved not to say anything, Ivan took the matter out of his hands.

“It’s nice to see how friendly you guys are now. I was worried her past crush on you would get in the way, but—”

“What?” Adrien sputtered, blinking. Ivan stared…and then his face turned completely red.

“Oh…sorry,” he apologized, looking highly embarrassed. “That, uh, wasn’t supposed to—I mean, I thought you knew—”

“I do!” Adrien rushed to assure him, raising his hands in a placating manner. “But, uh, she only told me recently…how did you find out?”

Ivan blinked at him.

“I’ve known for years,” he admitted, and Adrien gaped.

“You—you have?!”

“Well, yeah. I mean, _everyone_ knew, back in Dupont…she wasn’t really hiding it, you know?”

Wait.

Wait wait wait, _hold on._

So…everyone else knew that Marinette had been crushing on him?

 _Everyone else_ knew…except for _him?_

“How come nobody told me?!” Adrien demanded to know, feeling his face light up like a traffic light. Ivan blinked at him, clearly startled.

“We thought you knew! Didn’t you ever wonder why she acted so different around you?”

“I—”

Oh _god._ This was so embarrassing. Had he really been the only oblivious one??

“That’s why Chloe bullied her so much,” Ivan added. “She was already jealous of Marinette, I think…but her being close to you was kinda the final straw.”

“Oh my _god,_ ” Adrien groaned, letting his face fall in his hands. That whole time, he had been afraid that she was intimidated by him, or even disliked him, but sitting here now, with the honest truth staring in him the face…

He felt like a _goddamned idiot._

Ivan patted him carefully on the shoulder.

“Well…don’t feel too bad,” he tried to reason. “It was a long time ago, and it’s over now. Nothing to worry about, right?”

Adrien guessed not.

Except…

If he hadn’t been quite so oblivious—and if he hadn’t been quite so smitten with a superhero at that time—how might this thing with Marinette have played out…?

‘ _It doesn’t matter_ now,’ he rebuked himself, shaking his head. ‘ _Like Ivan said, it was a long time ago. She’s your friend now. Whatever might have happened back then doesn’t matter anymore._ ’

The hour finished without any more uncomfortable revelations, and Adrien went to work with a little more on his mind than usual.

The next morning, Marinette unexpectedly joined him on his jog.

She kept asking him why his face was so flushed. He lied and said it was because of the wind.

She didn’t look entirely convinced.

 

* * *

 

** Week Three **

He was a half hour late. The secretary clucked his tongue at him as Adrien burst into Ivan’s office, not quite out of breath, but breathing a little harder than usual.

“Oh, Adrien, hey,” Ivan greeted, blinking in surprise. “I thought you got busy with something at work and forgot.”

“No,” Adrien huffed automatically; although that would have been the perfect excuse, lying to Ivan without reason just seemed unnecessary. “I was held up because an akuma attacked.”

“Oh.” Ivan frowned. “Are you all right?”

“I’m good.” Grinning tightly, Adrien added, “It’d take a lot more than an akuma to take me down.”

That brag was a little too Chat-ish, but other than a thoughtful frown, Ivan didn’t pursue it.

“Well, we have about a half hour left in our session, if there’s anything you wanna talk about.”

Adrien was about to just request a playlist for the day, but his jittery high from becoming Chat Noir had not yet faded, and he found, quite suddenly, that there was something he _did_ want to discuss.

“How do you know when you’re over someone?”

He half-expected Ivan to gape at him.

Ivan did no such thing.

Instead, he set down his pen and closed his journal, frowning thoughtfully.

“Hmm. That’s a good question,” he admitted. Adrien felt his shoulders slump.

“Sorry. You probably don’t—I mean, you and Mylene have been solid for so long—”

“That doesn’t mean we didn’t hit rough patches,” Ivan corrected Adrien gently, gesturing for him to have a seat. Adrien paused…and then went to his usual armchair, eyes intent on Ivan as the therapist folded his hands over his journal. “There were a couple times where we almost broke up over all the usual stuff that messes couples up—lack of communication, mostly. And in those times, the only thing that made us realize we needed to work to fix it was the fact that we knew we weren’t over each other.”

Adrien shrugged, feeling his expression crumple into helplessness.

“But how do you _know_?”

Ivan gave a massive shrug.

“How did I personally know that I wasn’t over Mylene? It was the little stuff—I missed the way she cuddled up to me when we watched scary movies together. I missed the smell of her shampoo in my bed. You know,” he said, a blush filling his face, “stuff like that.” Clearing his throat, Ivan pointed out, “But it’s different for everyone.”

Adrien frowned, crossing an ankle over his knee.

“…Can you not be over someone even if you’re doing everything you can to actively go against them?” He questioned quietly.

“Hmm. Well, that depends: are you actively against them because of _them?_ Or because of _you?_ ”

Adrien frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you going against them because of something _you_ believe in? Or is it just because it’s _them_ that you’re going against them?” Ivan paused. “Does that make sense?”

Kind of. Adrien bobbed his head and fell silent for a moment, considering, searching his own stunted, repressed feelings for an answer.

As usual, seeing Ladybug today was a punch straight to the gut, though Chat Noir worked to never let her see so. Their dynamic was radically different now, rival heroes battling to save Paris the way they each believed was the right way. Ladybug was still as fierce as ever, and she didn’t bother to pull her punches when it came to him anymore. And Chat Noir knew that he didn’t owe her anything anymore, now that their partnership was dissolved.

…But…

“…Both?” Adrien answered, scowling down at his hands for a moment. “I mean…I don’t think I’m wrong. The whole reason I started this—what I’m doing—is because I honestly believe in what I’m doing. I don’t think I’m wrong…”

Or, he was trying not to believe he was wrong, anyway. But that was a much larger can of worms that didn’t need rattling, and so Adrien moved on.

“But, at the same time…seeing her fight so hard against me…I can’t help but give it everything I’ve got, too. And it’s not that I _want_ to be her enemy…but I just…I know I can’t half-ass this, you know? She’s really strong, and if she senses even the slightest bit of weakness from me, it’s all over. I don’t want that to happen—I don’t want to lose—but it’s like, I _know_ she’d expect nothing but my best from me, anyway, so…I don’t know. Am I trying to make her proud, in my own twisted way? I…I’m not sure.”

The way he felt about Ladybug was complicated. She was Chat Noir’s enemy. She had rejected Adrien Agreste. She had killed Adrien Agreste’s father.

And yet he still found himself so hung up on her that to watch her walk away from him after a battle had ended, not saying one word to him, was physical pain.

Why couldn’t he just be free of her like she was clearly free of him?

How long would she keep him on this chafing leash?

Just how hard was he supposed to fight before he could finally break away from her completely?

Ivan watched him quietly, not saying a word. Dimly, Adrien wondered how much of what he said made no sense, due to lack of context. All was silent for a long moment.

Finally, Ivan leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach as he gazed at the ceiling in thought.

“If you _are_ trying to make her proud,” he spoke into the silence, shattering it, “it must mean that you’re still there for her in _some_ way. You might be over her…but then again, you might not be.”

Adrien growled in frustration.

“Which is it?”

Ivan glanced back down to him.

“Only you know the answer to that,” he said. Adrien huffed, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“That’s helpful,” he grumbled, realizing a second later that he was being rude. He cringed, but Ivan smiled and lifted a shoulder.

“Sorry. I may be your therapist, but I can’t tell you how to feel, Adrien.”

While that was true, a part of Adrien wished it weren’t so. It would be so much easier for someone else to run his emotions while he went through life, blissfully unaware of such difficulty…

…But then again, life with his father hadn’t satisfied him either, had it?

“We’ve got about ten minutes left,” Ivan pointed out, jolting Adrien with the surprise. Was time almost up already? “Anything else you wanna get off your chest? I’m all ears.”

Adrien gave a sigh.

“I think that’s probably enough for today,” he grumbled. He had shared a little more than he meant to, than he was used to…but it didn’t feel bad, or invasive. Ivan was patient, and he never pushed or prodded for details. He was perfectly willing to listen when Adrien wanted to talk, and completely fine with sitting quietly and scribbling in his journal while Adrien listened to music. Ivan didn’t make the hour in his office feel like therapy. Rather, he made it feel like Adrien was just choosing to spend an hour with a friend, shooting the breeze and chilling out for a while, before Adrien had to return to his normal, hectic life.

It was a safe haven. And Ivan, his therapist, had made it so.

Adrien was going to have to buy Marinette something pretty for insisting he try this.

“Okay,” Ivan allowed—again, not pushing, which Adrien was grateful for. He opened his journal again, blushing a little. “Er…then, if it’s okay with you…can I read you my latest draft? I think this one might be it…but I wouldn’t mind a friend’s opinion.”

Adrien grinned a grin he was sure probably looked stupid on him.

He couldn’t find it in himself to care.

 

* * *

 

** Week Four **

Adrien waited on his usual corner, hands buried in his pockets as he jogged in place. Marinette had said that she’d meet him this morning—after much grumbling and cursing—but she was later than usual. Adrien threw a glance to his watch, frowning a little. Had she changed her mind?

He was just about to call her when he spotted a figure approaching through the fog.

“About time!” He called just to nettle her, before he realized that the figure coming closer was too tall to be her…much too tall…

Adrien froze as Nino broke through the morning mist, his face ruddy from the cold…or was he embarrassed to see Adrien?

What the hell was he doing here, anyway?

The two just stood there, staring at each other, the tension between them several shades of awkward. Adrien tried to find something to say, but it was like someone had jammed a pole into the gears of his mind—they grinded to a halt, and his brain was officially useless in finding a solution to this problem.

After a moment, Nino released a sigh, rubbing the back of his head and glancing away as he burst into speech without preamble.

“Look, du—Adrien,” he hastily corrected himself, and Adrien raised an eyebrow, “I’m sorry for what I said about you becoming your dad. It wasn’t true. I was just…I was pissed, you know? The way you just…looked _away_ as soon as you saw me at Francoise’s…like I was _trash._ What was up with that?”

Nino looked up, pinning Adrien with a hard stare, hurt and anger battling in his gaze.

“You haven’t talked to me for _years_ , man. Every time I tried to reach out to you, you either straight up ignored me or told me to quit bothering you. And all this time I felt bad, wondering what I did wrong to make you hate me…but I’m stumped, Adrien. Honestly, I have no freaking clue.”

Nino threw out a hand, disturbing the fog around him.

“Would it kill you to tell me just when we stopped being friends? And why?”

Adrien stared at the man before him, just able to see the boy he once knew in the set of his jaw, the earnestness of his gaze. Once upon a time, Adrien believed that the two would be inseparable, for Nino was his very first friend at Dupont, and it had been him who encouraged Adrien to clear the air with Marinette by just…being himself. Wise words, coming from a boy the same age as him. But Nino was different now, and so was he, and maybe there was nothing either of them could do about such a situation.

‘ _Not to mention he was once an akuma,_ ’ the darker side of Adrien reminded him none too gently.

Yes…that was right. Nino had been akumatized, too. He had let his anger and rage get out of control, making himself an easy target for Hawk Moth…

…All because he was upset that his best friend had never had a real birthday party.

The shock of the reminder rocked Adrien in place, widening his eyes.

There were plenty of victims that were always made into akuma due to perceived injustices done unto them. A lot of them were caused by Chloe Bourgeois just being herself, even.

But now that he thought about it…Adrien had never heard of someone being akumatized for the sake of someone else.

Except for Nino.

And now, Adrien was responsible for the wounded look in Nino’s eyes…the same look his father had once been responsible for, when he kicked Nino out of the house and labeled him a “bad influence”.

Was Nino wrong, in his assertion that Adrien had grown up to become his father?

Adrien was starting to think not.

And that terrified him.

“I was stupid,” Adrien blurted out when he could no longer take the tension in the air between him and a man he had once called ‘friend’. “It wasn’t your fault, Nino—it was _never_ your fault. After leaving, there was so much I had to cope with, so much about my father that I never wanted to realize…but I had to just _deal_ with it. My aunt and uncle, they never liked him, so I couldn’t bring him up with them, and the fact that he was fucking _Hawk Moth_ all that time, I…I didn’t even know how to _process_ that. How do you just _accept_ that your father was a villain that terrorized a whole city?!”

Even now, with how angry Nino rightfully was with Adrien, his face still crumpled with concern, a hand reaching out, as if he meant to pat Adrien’s arm, before he dropped it a moment later. The clear worry in his gaze, even after all these years, managed to make Adrien feel even worse.

“Dude…” Nino began, but seemed unable to continue. It didn’t matter anyway, since Adrien would have just cut him off: now that the floodgates were open, he couldn’t stop himself.

“He hurt _so many people,_ Nino. And you were one of them! He turned you into a monster!”

“Whoa,” Nino interrupted, holding up a hand, his frown growing more pronounced. “‘Monster’?”

Adrien paled.

“I…I just meant—”

“You _said_ ‘monster,’” Nino cut across him, the pity in his gaze vanishing on the spot. “You think I’m a _monster_ now?”

“I—”

“Is _that_ why you stopped talking to me? Didn’t want to sully your new reputation by being on speaking terms with one of Hawk Moth’s former terrors?”

Adrien desperately wished for the right words to diffuse the situation, to make years of pain and anger and awkwardness disappear with some sort of magic phrase that would restore everything to the way it should be…

But he had no Lucky Charm to call to his aid. Magic couldn’t fix this.

His silence was taken in by Nino, who lifted his chin, his gaze going dark.

“…That’s fucked up, man,” was all he said.

Adrien couldn’t help but agree with him.

“I was stupid,” he repeated with a slow shake of his head. “Still am. Right now, I…”

Adrien sighed from his core, but made himself square up and meet Nino’s injured look.

“…I’m not okay, Nino.”

It was the first time he had ever spoken the words aloud. Shame filled him at the admission…shame and a pinprick of a strange, out-of-place emotion…relief?

Nino folded his arms, inspecting Adrien.

“…Look,” he began, lifting and dropping a shoulder, “I only tracked you down here ‘cause ‘Nette said she meets you here sometimes to go jogging, and I wanted to apologize for what I said to you the last time I saw you. It was over the line, and I’m sorry.” Nino frowned. “I’m not looking for anything more from you, Adrien.”

That was fair. Adrien expected it, even. There was no reason, then, for that old ache to flare up again, the ache he associated with the loss of his first real friend, the guy who managed to see the good in him and gave him a chance, despite his dubious friendship with the meanest girl in class.

Adrien nodded, trying not to look too subdued.

“I understand,” he had to admit.

“Good,” Nino said. Adrien expected him to leave, then, to turn his back and never glance over his shoulder, the way Adrien found himself doing more and more these days, the further he traveled down this path, wondering constantly if the road he hadn’t taken was the correct one after all…

Nino didn’t move. He just stared at Adrien, frowning thoughtfully.

Adrien could only stare back, having nothing to say…but he felt weighed down, as if some kind of silent judgment was being passed here, and he was on the edge of his seat, awaiting the verdict…

The sound of footsteps alerted them both to the presence of someone else, Nino turning around as yet another figure emerged through the lifting fog—Marinette, clad in her pink and black track suit, and a pink and white-knit muffler with a matching hat. She looked utterly miserable, yet somehow resigned…but when she spotted Nino and Adrien together, she stopped so suddenly that she flailed, falling into Nino, who staggered back against Adrien, who planted his feet, keeping the whole row from toppling over.

“Whoa,” Nino huffed, a smile in his voice now as he righted Marinette, whose face was now burning. “You okay, ‘Nette?”

“Yeah,” she huffed, sounding annoyed and embarrassed all at the same time. Adrien swallowed his chuckle, making sure his expression was quite straight as her gaze shot between him and Nino. “…Am I interrupting?”

“Nope.” Nino let his hands fall away from Marinette as he passed her. “We’re done here.”

“Nino—” Marinette called, looking as if she was about to meddle. She paused as Adrien slipped a hand onto her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. When she glanced up at him, he shook his head slightly with a helpless little smile. She bit her lip, her brow furrowing.

Nino only got a couple steps away before he paused, hands shoved into the pockets of his green coat. Adrien and Marinette watched him, Adrien holding his breath.

Finally, Nino whipped around, pinning Adrien with another stern stare.

“I don’t need stupid friends,” he said baldly. Adrien heard Marinette let out a tiny gasp beside him, but he squeezed her shoulder again, signaling that it was okay. Nino shouldn’t have stupid friends like him anyway.

“…But maybe,” Nino began after a moment’s pause, his expression changing, turning into something…a little warmer. More forgiving. “…Maybe if you stop being stupid…we can talk sometime.”

Adrien felt heat flood his face, his eyes widening in surprise. No way…

Even more surprising, Nino smiled.

“Let me know if that ever happens, will ya?”

Stunned, Adrien could only nod. Nino returned it, waved merrily to Marinette, and went on his way, disappearing from sight quickly, thanks to the fog. Adrien was still staring at the spot where Nino vanished when he felt Marinette peek up at him.

“…Should I ask?” She wanted to know. Adrien shrugged, but realized a second later that was an unclear action, and so he wrestled some words out of his mouth.

“I, uh…that was…” He shook his head, still not over his shock. It was almost too much to ask for Marinette to forgive him, but to have Nino willing to give him yet _another_ chance after how horribly he’d been treated by Adrien before they just stopped talking altogether? Wasn’t _this_ too much? Wasn’t this way more than he deserved?

‘ _Once an akuma, always an akuma._ ’

As if the darkness inside himself sensed that he was wavering, his mind was suddenly bombarded with images: Stoneheart, roaring with rage above him before knocking him backwards; the Bubbler, trapping him in a bubble with Ladybug and sending them skyward until Chat Noir popped the bubble and sent Ladybug and him potentially hurtling to their deaths—

There was a soft, hesitant touch on his bare wrist.

“Adrien?”

Marinette’s voice jarred him, the images shifting: Ivan, apologizing for scaring Mylene and promising to sing quieter, her hugging him, him blushing; Nino promising to stay by his side, despite his father’s attitude towards him the day before, just pleased to see that Adrien was happy with the gift he believed was from his father at the time…

The darkness within him hissed, clawing at the pleasant images, wanting to destroy them, but it was too late—the seed of doubt that had lodged itself within Adrien was sprouting, producing a small, but healthy sprout, green leaves flourishing.

It was a weed that threatened to throttle everything Adrien had resolved to do, every plan he made for his return to Paris…and his return to crime-fighting.

And a part of Adrien that was growing stronger everyday was tempted to just _let_ it.

Was he wrong after all? Was his own version of justice twisted, just like Ladybug kept asserting to his face every time he clashed with her? Was it wrong, wanting to protect Paris by killing akuma victims— _people_ —out of the fear that they would forever be controlled by Hawk Moth, subject to his dark whims at a later date?

Was what Adrien was doing…wrong?

Was _he_ wrong…?

“Adrien,” Marinette spoke again, sounding disturbed by his silence. He blinked, glancing down at her for a moment. Her dark brows were furrowed as she peered up at him, vivid blue eyes focused on him, darting around his face, searching for some signs of distress. He didn’t know if she was seeing them—he didn’t know what kind of face he was making right now. All he knew was that he didn’t like seeing Marinette so worried about him. He didn’t like it when she had been drunk babysitting him, and he liked it even less now, especially when her teeth moved to worry her bottom lip, the gesture familiar…

Adrien smiled to put her at ease…but it had the opposite effect; Marinette’s frown deepened, and she poked his cheek.

“Stop it,” she commanded, though her voice was soft. Adrien raised an eyebrow.

“Stop what?”

“Stop giving me your model smile,” she explained with a huff. “I can tell the difference between when you actually want to smile and when you’re smiling like a camera’s being aimed at you. Don’t smile if you don’t want to, Adrien. It’s just me out here.”

Adrien blinked, startled. His ‘model smile’, huh…he wasn’t even aware that there was a difference…but if it was actually bothering Marinette enough to say something about it…

“Sorry,” he said. Marinette shrugged it off, though she continued to look concerned as she jogged ahead at a slow pace, allowing Adrien to catch up way too easily.

“So…are you and Nino okay?”

“Not really.” Adrien paused, astonishment still coursing through him at the smile Nino had parted with. “…But I think we might be, in the future. As long as I get my shit together, that is.”

Marinette smiled a bit at that, and Adrien was relieved to see her brow smooth out. Someone so lovely shouldn’t be given cause to frown, anyway. Especially because of someone like him.

“Good luck with that, then,” she wished.

Luck. Ha. Luck wasn’t something that ever did Adrien any favors, like the embodiment of Luck itself was out to get him. Still…the sentiment was appreciated.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling a little. As they paused to wait for the crosswalk light, Adrien dug into his pocket, retrieving a box and placing it against Marinette’s cheek. “For you.”

Marinette blinked, clearly startled. She took the box, giving him a bemused look.

“Are you going to make a habit of giving me gifts while we’re out jogging?”

“Maybe,” Adrien teased, grinning now. “You gonna open it or what?”

“I feel like the suspense is getting to you more than it is to me,” Marinette observed. Adrien pretended to bounce eagerly in place, and she rolled her eyes and tugged the top off the box.

“Oh,” she breathed, and Adrien allowed himself to grin as she pulled out the black cat pin to inspect it, blinking wide blue eyes. Blue sapphires winked back at her from the cat, not quite the same shade, and nowhere near as beautiful…but close enough. “It’s really cute!”

“I’m glad you like it,” he admitted, relieved. He had almost bought her the one with emerald eyes instead of sapphires…but considering her current attitude towards Chat Noir, Adrien reasoned that it was probably better to play it safe.

As the crosswalk light turned green, Marinette nestled the pin safely back into its box, glancing up at Adrien with a frown.

“It wasn’t expensive, was it?” She asked, and Adrien was amused at how adorable she looked, worrying about such a small thing.

“Nope,” he said lightly, jogging forward before Marinette could ask exactly how much it was. She yelped behind him, and Adrien snickered. When she caught up with him, the box was out of sight, probably tucked into one of her pockets. That disappointed him a little. He wanted to see what it looked like on her…but maybe she was saving it for a special occasion rather than just pinning it to her track suit.

“What’s the occasion?” She wanted to know, and Adrien felt her curious eyes burning holes into the side of his head. He turned towards her, intending to explain the gift—that her support of him so far, though undeserved, was appreciated more than he could ever express in words…but abruptly, the need to tease her took precedence.

And so Adrien tossed her a wink, saying in a sly voice, “Just for being you.”

Marinette stared at him. Adrien slowed, abruptly afraid—had he acted too much like Chat Noir just now? Did she figure it out? Was she going to hit him?

He opened his mouth to explain that he was joking, hoping that would defuse the situation—but Marinette opened hers first, and quite suddenly, a peal of laughter issued from her, laughter so hearty that she clutched at her stomach and seemed to have trouble standing upright. Adrien flushed without knowing why, though part of him was sure that she was teasing _him_ now.

“Oh my god,” Marinette breathed after a moment, wiping tears of mirth from the corners of her eyes as she grinned up at him. “Are you _serious_?”

“What?” Adrien questioned, unsure of whether or not he was supposed to act wounded right now. Sure, it wasn’t his best pick-up line, but even so, she wasn’t supposed to be _laughing_ at him…even if her laughter sounded very nice…

Marinette muffled another giggle, shaking her head at him and continuing her jog, Adrien keeping pace with her.

“Look, if you’re trying to get a favor from me, Mr. Agreste, it’s gonna take a lot more than some pretty trinket and a cheesy pick-up line. Do better,” She scolded him playfully, punching his arm. Adrien pretended to stagger, rubbing the spot where she’d hit him.

“ _Ow._ Not only do your words hurt, but your punches do, too!”

“Suck it up, you big baby,” she teased him further, poking her tongue out. After a moment, however, her smile became genuine. “…But, whatever your reason…thank you. I love it.”

Adrien hastily looked away, his face burning. There it was again—that smile that, while it was just so _Marinette_ , somehow made him think of another woman entirely when he saw it…a woman in red with black spots…

“No problem,” he muttered, smiling to just himself now. Marinette poked his cheek again, and he glanced down to find her grinning.

“Much better,” she praised him. Suddenly, she poured on the speed; Adrien had recently discovered that her competitive streak had grown stronger over the years, and she always kicked it into high gear without warning while they were on their morning runs. Normally, he would race her—he almost always won when they raced to her parents’ bakery, something that annoyed Marinette to no end—but today, he couldn’t make his legs move fast enough. He blamed it on the distraction that was her back, her dark hair fanning out from under her hat, legs that were deceptively powerful pushing her forward into a sprint that was not hindered by her shorter legs at all. She was a sight to behold, that much was for sure: so much positivity housed in one person…it was actually pretty incredible. Miraculous, even.

His smile widening, Adrien jogged at his own leisurely pace behind her. He was content to let her win this one, no matter how much she liked to gloat and rub it in his face. Adrien couldn’t bring himself to be sore about the loss. How could he?

After all, Adrien adored it when Marinette smiled.

 

* * *

 

Later that morning, Adrien made it a point to head right to the lounge couch when he entered Ivan’s office. He didn’t bother to lay down on it—that would be too much at once—but he did sit down, his hands folded in between his legs.

Ivan seemed to register how serious Adrien was: he closed his journal and moved away from his desk, tugging an armchair nearer to the lounge couch, sitting much like Adrien, his face open, curious. Adrien met his gaze, feeling the darkness within him writhe and twist. It was rebelling, reviled by this course of action, hissing and spitting insults at him from the back of his mind. In response, Adrien sought refuge within the light of the sapling that had sprouted within him, thriving even as the darkness hovered just beyond its boundaries, scheming, attempting to press in and throttle it at first chance. But Adrien was not worried. Though he thought at first he didn’t want it, now he knew: this seed, which he had labeled ‘doubt’, was not meant to harm him at all—Marinette would not gift him with something so negative, after all.

No, rather than doubt that had sprouted here, rather than doubt that had taken root and poisoned his schemes and ideals, rather than doubt that threatened to spoil everything…it was ‘trust’.

Marinette trusted him, trusted that he wanted to get better, that he wanted to be a better person. She did not coddle him, did not pat his head and tell him he was a good boy when he misbehaved, did not give him the toy after he threw a tantrum—she called him out on his bullshit, made him face it and own up to it, and then she offered to help him overcome it with a smile.

And her friendship—her unwavering, seemingly unshakeable trust in him—made Adrien realize that he not only wanted to be a better person, a better friend, for her…but also for himself.

Adrien owed it to himself to be a better person.

And to be a better person…he had to let go of everything that was holding him back, keeping him in the dark.

Everything.

He still wasn’t entirely convinced that his way of doing things was the wrong way—it was an eighty to twenty balance, maybe eighty-five to fifteen, in favor of Ladybug’s way…but he would tackle that later. Today, he was going to start on what he _was_ convinced could change, one baby step at a time.

After a deep, steadying breath—because, for all his certainty, his hands were still shaking—Adrien spoke.

“I’m ready to talk about my father.”

Ivan nodded.

“I’m listening.”

And that was all Adrien needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeaaaah, this chapter became a monster, so I've had to split it into two chapters.
> 
> The second part will be up later this week.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	11. Recovery pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains numerous mentions of child abuse. Please proceed with caution.
> 
> Credit for the akuma's design goes to tumblr user madmadamemimble, who has learned how to effectively break my heart along with her own...payback for all the sad headcanons, I'd wager. :P Thanks, Mims!
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

** Week Five **

What was he doing here?

Again and again, Adrien mentally chanted the answer to himself.

‘ _You’re here for ice cream, that’s all. There’s no pressure—you don’t need to join them. You weren’t invited._ ’

Even so, he couldn’t help but overhear them, zeroing in on their conversation, for they were easily the loudest table in the place.

“I’m getting worried,” Nino was sighing as Adrien busied himself with scanning the menu, wondering what he could convincingly be in the mood for, though his stomach was in knots. “Her grandmother hasn’t heard from her, either.”

“Who?” Marinette asked. Adrien sternly kept his gaze forward, away from her.

“Are you talking about your neighbor?” Alya asked as the person behind Adrien gave a little cough; he was holding up the line. Adrien stepped out of the way, allowing the man to cut him with the excuse that he didn’t yet know what he wanted, but really, he just wanted to remain close enough to eavesdrop.

“Yeah.” Nino sighed again, and Adrien felt himself automatically frown in response. He worked to straighten out his expression, hearing his former best friend continue. “There’s this kid that lives next door to me, ‘Nette: a ten year old girl named Kira. She’s had a rough life—her dad’s a bastard of a drunk, and he used to beat her and her mom when she was younger.”

“Oh my god,” Marinette whimpered, and Adrien had to restrain himself from marching himself over there to comfort her; her voice sounded far too worried to be allowed.

“Didn’t they put the bastard in jail?” Alya wanted to confirm, her voice aggressive.

“Yeah, but Kira’s mom died from the injuries. Now Kira lives with her grandma, and they’re real sweet to me. But apparently Kira’s dad got out of jail just last week, and he’s been coming around asking about her. Yuri keeps threatening to call the police, but really, she’s afraid to do anything that’ll make him mad—she doesn’t want him suing her for custody of Kira.”

“He can’t do that, can he? He’s an unfit parent!”

The rage in Marinette’s voice was all holy justice, and Adrien felt it echo within him. She was right—a man like that wasn’t fit to raise his daughter.

“I know that, but since Kira never testified against him, the courts believe the abuse just happened to her mom.”

“That’s _bullshit!_ Was the judge _blind?!_ I’m sure she must’ve had bruises still! And he still _killed_ her mom!” Alya snapped.

“Apparently he’s reformed.” Nino’s tone spoke volumes about how he doubted such a claim. “He got out early on good behavior, supposedly. And Yuri’s afraid that the courts will give him the benefit of the doubt if he chooses to sue for custody. And now Kira’s gone missing.”

“Shouldn’t we do something?” Marinette asked, eager to help, as always. “Call the school, see if they know anything?”

“Yuri tried that. The most they could tell her was that Kira went home on her own.”

“Let’s go look for her,” Marinette insisted anyway, and Adrien heard a chair scrape back. “We’ll help, Nino. Just tell us what she looks like, and we’ll comb the city for her.”

“Damn straight,” Alya agreed, and there was the second sound of a chair scraping across linoleum. “You’ve got a selfie with her, right, Nino?”

“Yeah, hang on a second—”

“Excuse me? Sir?”

Adrien was jolted back to his immediate surroundings, blinking stupidly at the woman behind the counter, giving him an odd look.

“Uh…wh-what’ll you have?” She asked, abruptly becoming shy the moment he made eye contact with her. Adrien realized that he still had nothing to order, and his mouth hung open for a moment as he tried to think fast.

“Uh—”

His answer was deemed irrelevant a moment later—a sudden yell outside had the entire gelato shop jumping in surprise, heads swiveling towards the door. A couple was racing past outside, terror in their eyes as they glanced back at whatever was chasing them. One of the men stumbled, falling to the ground. He shouted for his companion to keep going, their arms outstretched towards each other, when curious purple and yellow sparkles suddenly appeared, blown in the fallen man’s direction. There was a sudden ‘ _zap!_ ’ when the glitter made contact, and a flash of light blinded the area. The man was nowhere in sight when the light faded—in his place was what appeared to be a tiny phone charm in the shape of a shooting star, a string attached to the end of it. The other man let out a strangled yell and kept running just as a small figure touched down on the sidewalk, retrieving the charm.

The girl was dressed like a fairy princess crossed with a knick-knack shop: her dress was dark purple and frilly, the yellow pattern at the bottom making it appear like a flower blooming around her legs, which were covered in candy-striped tights, swirls of purple and yellow all the way down to candy red shoes. The waist of her dress was _covered_ in cute little ornaments, with a small stuffed bear, a tiny pink cupcake, a large but fake diamond, a black clover pendant, a plush cat’s face, and countless others, giving her the appearance of a portable curio stand. A pink ribbon tied closed at the base of her throat, and her cobalt blue hair was accented with multi-colored hair clips in the shapes of rectangles, hearts, and stars, the star clips matching the star earrings that dangled from her ears and the giant star tattoo that was plastered over her left eye. Said eyes were blood red and pulsed with power, and after she attached the shooting star charm to her dress, those eyes cut to the side, focusing on the gelato patrons. As Adrien watched, a wide smile split her features.

“Oooh, _goodie_!” She cheered as she kicked the door open, reaching into a small purple bag at her side and withdrawing a handful of purple and yellow glitter, her smile manic. “ _More_ cute charms for Trinket!”

_Akuma._

The panic was instantaneous—several of the patrons threw their tables up in defense or even by accident, scurrying for cover or escape from the shop. This didn’t deter the akuma—Trinket—who giggled and was indiscriminate with her glitter, blowing it in every direction, apparently determined to make her collection huge. Adrien found himself crouched down behind the ice cream counter with the woman from earlier, who was whimpering in panic.

“Get everyone you can out the back way,” Adrien urged her. “Hurry!”

She gave a shaky nod and scurried away; he could hear her whispering frantically to whomever was hiding just around the corner, but he focused on slinking out from behind the counter.

Trinket’s back was to him, busy retrieving the people she had just turned into charms and attaching them to her dress. Clenching his teeth, Adrien slipped out the open door and into the next alley over.

“Plagg, we have to do something!” Adrien urged his kwami, poking the cat-like fairy out of his pocket. Plagg gave a theatrical yawn, peering at Adrien with a flat gaze.

“What, are you gonna try and claw your way through this one, too? This is clearly a child throwing a tantrum. Just let Ladybug deal with it.”

Adrien had been meeting this attitude from Plagg a lot recently—it was clear the kwami did not approve of Adrien’s way of doing things. Normally, it wouldn’t have bothered Adrien, because he had been so convinced that his way was just as justified as Ladybug’s way.

Lately, however…

“I can’t just sit here and do nothing,” Adrien protested, clenching his right hand into a fist. “Just get in the ring!”

“Say the magic words…”

“Plagg, transform me!”

As his reluctant kwami zoomed into his ring, Adrien was filled, as always, with the heady sense of purpose and freedom that came from being Chat Noir. Ears on, claws out, bell jangling, he jumped back out onto the sidewalk, grabbing his baton to defend himself as he raced to the door of the gelato shop—

But Trinket was nowhere to be seen. Chat grit his teeth, wondering if she had snuck out the back while he wasn’t looking, but a shriek from down the street told him that she hadn’t gotten very far. He raced forward, extending his baton and propelling himself up onto the nearest roof, using the high vantage point to inspect the situation.

His gaze zeroed in on Trinket immediately as she tossed glitter at a screaming woman who cowered under the attack, only to turn into a lollipop-shaped charm a moment later, ripe for collection. Chat raced forward, jumping down into the street, intending to stop this reign of knick-knack based terror early—but because he had been so focused on the akuma, he was too late to stop when another force entirely yanked him backwards, his feet flying out from under him, leaving him to belly flop painfully on the ground. Before he could even attempt to get up, something strong slammed into his head, making him yelp and keeping him down.

“Don’t you go _near_ her,” a furious voice above him commanded, and Chat could just barely turn his head to spot his assailant…though he didn’t need three guesses as to who it could be…

“You’re a little rougher than usual today, My Lady,” he drawled, the nickname all but ironic at this point. “Could it be you know this victim?”

“I don’t have to know her to know that it’s wrong to hurt a _child._ ”

“Is that what you see?” He asked just to antagonize her. It worked; Ladybug’s gaze tightened, and her foot shoved his head further down, grinding his face into the asphalt.

“You’re sitting this fight out, Chat Noir,” she growled at him, and abruptly, they were moving, her dragging him behind her. Chat dug in his claws, but it was no use; if Ladybug wanted him out of the way, then she was going to get him out of the way.

Which was why he found himself tied to the base of a streetlight a moment later, Ladybug’s trusty yo-yo locked securely around him. He gave her a dry look as she plucked at the wire, testing the binding.

“You’re gonna have a hell of a time facing off against the akuma without your yo-yo,” he pointed out. In fact, he didn’t like this one bit—it was one thing to keep him out of the way, but doing so by rendering herself defenseless? Bad move, _very_ bad move.

Ladybug seemed unconcerned, scowling down at him once she was satisfied he wasn’t able to move.

“Mind your own business,” she told him roughly, her hands on her hips as she leaned down to his eye level, blue eyes blazing. “You just sit here and _don’t move._ ”

“But what if I get hungry or need to use the litter box?” He asked sarcastically.

“Too bad,” Ladybug retorted. “Don’t move until I get back.”

“You can’t just keep me tied up here, you know.”

“I’ll untie you when the akuma needs to be purified. Until then, stay put.”

“Or what?”

Ladybug’s eyes narrowed into near slits.

“I hope for your sake that you don’t find out,” she growled at him. Chat Noir stared at her impassively, all the while inwardly trying to repress the unreasonable flash of arousal he could feel pooling within him. _Why_ did he seem to have such a fatal attraction to women who could kick his ass? This masochistic tendency was troubling, to say the least.

And off she went, racing after the akuma who seemed intent on making every citizen of Paris a personal accessory. Growling under his breath, Chat Noir wiggled against the restraint of her yo-yo. He didn’t care what she said; she wasn’t going to keep him out of the fight like this. Besides, what the hell could she do to him when he had her yo-yo?

‘ _That wasn’t an empty threat, though…_ ’ His thoughts warned him. Well…he’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

But damn this was hard to get out of. How did Animan achieve it so easily? Oh right, shapeshifting. Well, that wasn’t an option for Chat, and he was just beginning to wonder if using his Cataclysm would be enough to break through the wire of Ladybug’s magic yo-yo—

There was a sudden tugging at his back. Chat held perfectly still; though he was curious to know who was assisting him, he didn’t want to meet their eyes and make them change their mind…though, it had to be one of his ‘supporters’, right? Who else would be freeing him when Ladybug had been so intent on restraining him…?

Finally, the wire of the yo-yo fell away, and Chat Noir jumped to his feet, flexing his arms. Ah, sweet freedom.

“Than—” He began, whirling to give a charming smile to his rescuer…only to freeze in place, his mouth hanging open in shock.

Nino stood before him, the wire of Ladybug’s yo-yo clutched loosely in his hands. He was breathing hard and scowling, as if he had run a race to get here, and found that what was waiting for him at the end of the finish line had _not_ been worth all the effort.

Chat Noir paused, scratching the back of his head. How…exactly was he supposed to react, here…?

“Uh…thanks?”

Nino’s eyes tightened behind his glasses, clearly not appreciating the sentiment.

“Look, I’m only untying you because I know Ladybug needs this,” he stated point-blank, lifting the yo-yo. “I don’t like you, I don’t like what you stand for, and I don’t trust you as far as I could throw you.”

Chat’s face grew impassive. He was used to his treatment; for every supporter he gained, there were three more Ladybug supporters, booing and hissing at him as he went by. To find that Nino was one of them was no surprise.

“Well, thanks anyway,” he said dryly, turning to go—but Nino seized his arm.

“Hold up, Whiskers, I’m not done.”

‘Whiskers’? Chat twitched in irritation; he didn’t even _have_ whiskers!

“What?” He spat, tugging his arm from Nino’s grip. This didn’t seem to bother Nino; he merely folded his arms, staring hard at Chat Noir. As if he could see just who was under that mask and was unimpressed.

Chat swallowed.

“I care about that girl,” Nino stated, baldly and without preamble. “The akumatized girl. She’s like a little sister to me. If I could, _I’d_ be the one running after her to stop her. But I don’t have the super-powered jewelry, so I can’t do anything.” That fact clearly frustrated him, if the way his scowl deepened was any indication. Huffing, he yanked the yo-yo wire taut, and it snapped back into place. He tossed it at Chat, who almost fumbled the catch, he was so surprised. “The only thing I _can_ do is make sure that yo-yo gets back to Ladybug so _she_ can help.”

Chat Noir stared down at the yo-yo, and then raised his gaze to Nino, blinking in a bewildered fashion. Didn’t he just say he didn’t trust him as far as he could throw him…?

“So what’re you giving it to me for?” He dared to ask. Nino frowned.

“Because I don’t have much of a choice,” he said point-blank. “I’m not as fast as you are, and I’d probably just get in the way. At least you have the suit if you end up getting in the crossfire.”

Ahhh, so he was the sacrifice. Nice, Nino.

“So you don’t trust me…but you’re giving me Ladybug’s only weapon…”

“Didn’t I just say I don’t have a choice?” Nino huffed, rubbing his shoulder, as if there was a knot there that needed working out. “Just take the damn yo-yo back to Ladybug, all right? And don’t even think about trying anything—I’ve got a grandma that’s into voodoo, and she _loves_ to hex the _shit_ out of people.”

Chat had to work not to laugh—the threat was familiar, and it brought about a wave of nostalgia he wasn’t anticipating, so he had to move fast to keep himself under control.

“Noted.” Tucking Ladybug’s yo-yo in the back of his belt, behind his baton, Chat turned to go…but was halted once again by the strong grip that held him by his arm. “Look, do you want me to go to the rescue or not?”

“Just one more thing…” Chat was forced to lean back as Nino stepped forward, invading his space. His gold eyes were burning, fierce behind his glasses. “I don’t care what kind of magical powers you’ve got: if you hurt that girl…I’ll _never forgive you._ ”

A chill ran down Chat Noir’s spine.

Nino meant it: he wouldn’t forgive Chat if he hurt the akuma…which meant that there was a good chance Trinket was actually Kira.

This put Chat in a rather awkward position: if he dared to end this on his terms…Nino would hate him forever.

‘ _He doesn’t know you’re also Adrien Agreste,_ ’ a voice in his head tried to reason, but it was stifled immediately by a hideous fear: even if Nino didn’t know _now,_ who was to say he would _never_ find out?

Could Adrien, in good conscience, attempt to be his friend again, knowing he had hurt one of the people Nino cared about…?

Chat pulled his arm out of Nino’s grasp once more, and Nino backed off, the fire in his eyes still burning, daring Chat to test him. He could think of nothing else to say to his former best friend, and so he merely left, racing across the streets and rooftops to find the action again…though it felt like Nino’s eyes followed him the whole way.

It didn’t take long to find them, and Chat found that he was completely correct in the assertion that Ladybug would struggle without her yo-yo: she couldn’t fly out of the way like she usually did, so the grounded Ladybug had to duck and dodge and roll all over the street, somehow avoiding the glitter Trinket was tossing out left and right, which looked like it was a difficult feat, ‘cause that shit got _everywhere._ And apparently, her magic pixie dust could transform objects into charms, too—every hiding place Ladybug dared to duck behind became some kind of bric-a-brac a second later, leaving her just another second to dive for cover once more.

Chat clucked his tongue. Ladybug couldn’t dance forever—all it took was one little slip—

Thinking the word was magic: Ladybug slipped on one of the charms Trinket had yet to collect, and down she went, cringing as she landed. Chat tensed, his muscles bulging in anticipation as the akuma skipped her way closer to Ladybug, a wide, eager grin on her face at the thought of adding such a famous hero to her collection. As she reached for her purse of glitter, Chat prepared himself to pounce. As much as he was interested in what kind of charm Ladybug would be turned into—probably a ladybug—only she could reverse the chaos that was an akuma attack, so—

Before Chat could move, however, something sliced through the air, too fast for him to get a clear view of it. All he registered was blue before his nose began to itch, and his eyes squeezed shut as a forceful sneeze exploded out of him, the momentum rocking him forward and off the roof. He yelped and groaned as he hit the pavement below, grimacing. _That_ was gonna be sore in the morning…

“Ooh! A _kitty!_ ”

_Shit._

Chat scrambled into a backflip, landing crouched on his feet. A quick glance told him that Ladybug was still safe; her wide blue eyes were focused on something blue and huge she held, hints of red and black at the very tips. Chat had to dart his gaze away to focus on the akuma again…but…was that what he thought it was…?

“Trinket always wanted a kitty,” the akuma sang, digging into her apparently _bottomless_ purse of glitter. “You’ll go right next to Mommy’s charm.”

‘Mommy’s charm’, huh? Chat was willing to bet his non-existent whiskers that that charm was the one pinned right over Trinket’s heart—a four-leaf clover pendant that was black instead of green.

Thinking fast, Chat lunged forward, swiping for the charm. But Trinket was fast, too; she jumped back farther than was meant to be possible for any kid, her mouth open, incensed.

“What’re you doing?!” She shouted, stomping her foot in aggravation. “You can’t have Trinket’s charm, it’s MINE!!! Mommy gave it to me!!!”

“Just let me see it for a second!” Chat Noir growled, chasing after the akuma, who clearly did not like this game of Tag.

“Stop it! Leave me alone!!” She shrieked, apparently forgetting all about her magic glitter as Chat pursued her.

“Chat, stop it!!!” He could hear Ladybug calling behind him, but he was faster than both of them; with a short burst of speed, he caught up, snatching Trinket’s arm and tearing her purse full of glitter from her so she wouldn’t get any ideas.

“Gotcha! Now just _give me the_ —”

No one was prepared for Trinket’s reaction, least of all Chat: as he gripped her arm, she suddenly cowered, her eyes going wide in her face. She slumped in Chat’s grip, raising a hand and turning her face away, screaming at the top of her lungs:

“NOOOOO!!!! PLEASE, DADDY, STOP!!! PLEASE!!!”

Shocked, Chat dropped her arm, taking a hasty step back, but Trinket only threw her arms over her head, turning into a quivering ball on the ground.

“I’ll be good! I promise, I’ll be good!! _Please, stop!!!_ ” She sobbed as Chat could only look on in horror, not knowing what to do. “ _Mommy!_ _Baa-chan!_ _Nino!! Help me!!!_ ”

Chat backed up until his back hit something; he didn’t care to look at what it was. All he could focus on was the sobbing, screaming akuma— _child_ —in the middle of the street, terrified that he was her father come to brutalize her.

He didn’t dare approach her. Not even when he could spy the possessed item—it was right there, _right there_ —but he couldn’t go near her. Not like this.

Chat registered the pair of eyes on him, but he couldn’t meet them. His gaze would not be pulled from the child.

Slowly, so very slowly, a woman in red with black spots blocked the child from his view, carefully crouching down near the child, but not too close, as if she were afraid of frightening her.

“…Kira?” She asked softly after a moment, and the child flinched. “Kira, I’m Ladybug.”

The child sniffled.

“I know,” she whimpered, still cowering in her tight ball. “The Butterfly told me about you.”

“Then you know I’m here to help. That I catch bad guys.” Ladybug paused for a delicate moment. “Your dad’s a bad guy, isn’t he, Kira?”

Trinket quivered, sniffling louder.

“He doesn’t stop,” she cried, her voice wrenching something apart in Chat Noir. “Why doesn’t he stop?! I said I’d be good…and he always gives me presents to say he’s sorry…but he _still_ hurts me!! He took Mommy _away_ from me!!” The child gripped at her hair, rocking back and forward. “He calls me a _thing._ He says that I deserve to be punished, but I didn’t _do_ anything! I’m a _good girl!_ I was only doing what The Butterfly said!! They said that if I made enough charms that Daddy wouldn’t hurt me anymore!!”

“The Butterfly is a liar, Kira,” Ladybug said gently; Chat was probably the only one to pick up on the steel in her tone. “Whatever they said to you wasn’t true. But I can help you. I’m going to make sure your dad never hurts you again. Can you trust me, Kira?”

The child sniffled, lifting her head a little. Her eyes were swimming with tears, and she stared up at Ladybug, who smiled. There was such sadness in her smile that Chat had to physically restrain himself from moving to her, holding her, and promising _her_ that everything would be all right, just as she was promising Trinket.

After a long, long moment…Trinket nodded.

“O…okay…”

“Thank you, Kira. You’re being very brave,” Ladybug praised her with another smile. She lifted a hand, as if she meant to pat Trinket’s head, but the child’s flinch stopped her, and she slowly lowered her hand back onto her knee. “I just need to borrow your mommy’s charm for a second.”

Trinket raised her hands, clutching protectively at the charm.

“B-but—”

“I’m sorry to ask, Kira,” Ladybug apologized; indeed, she looked like she was hating this. “But I need it. I promise to give it back, good as new, if you let me borrow it for a minute. Can you do that for me?”

With trembling, hesitant hands, Trinket removed the dark clover pendant, and placed it in Ladybug’s awaiting palm.

“Thank you, Kira,” Ladybug said softly, briefly squeezing Trinket’s hand before she stood up. “I’ll be right back with it. I’m going to make everything better, I promise. Can you stay here for a second?”

Trinket nodded, clutching her knees to her chest, tears streaming down her face. Ladybug hesitated, looking like she’d rather not leave her…but then she glanced down at the pendant in her palm, and her resolve seemed to strengthen. Chat was only dimly aware of the fact that she was moving closer to him, not registering her approach until she was right in front of him. His wild gaze switched to her, at her strong stance before him, her gaze as steady as ever.

She had handled the akuma way more effectively than he ever could.

And she did it all without having to be aggressive at all.

In his mind, Chat Noir felt himself finally _surrender_.

His way…wasn’t the right way.

He was wrong. All wrong.

It took him a moment to catch that Ladybug was speaking to him, the words refusing to register, her hand held out for something. Chat recoiled from it, as if touching such pure goodness might burn him.

“What?” He rasped, just catching the surprise that flitted across Ladybug’s face before it smoothed over, her poker face sliding back into place.

“You have my yo-yo,” she reminded him, her hand stretching out. “Give it.”

Oh. Right.

Numbly, Chat Noir reached behind him, pulling the yo-yo out from his belt and surrendering it to its rightful owner. She peered up at him, something speculative in her gaze. Chat looked away from her, feeling his cat ears flatten against his head. Why was she looking at him like that? Why didn’t she just end this so he could get out of here already? In fact, what was he still doing here?

As if she sensed his desire to escape, Ladybug gripped his arm.

“Still got a Cataclysm in you?”

Chat’s gaze snapped to her, her hand splayed, offering the pendant to him. He tried to take a step back, but whatever was already blocking his back had no give. He was cornered.

“You break it,” he insisted, looking away from her again, his hand tightening into a fist. He would not touch the thing that carried so many of Kira’s memories of her mother. Even if Ladybug could restore it, to break it in the first place, with his own two hands—

“I don’t think I can,” Ladybug admitted, bringing Chat’s attention to her once again. She frowned now, staring up at him. “I think…it has to be you.”

Chat stared at her. She was making no sense.

“Why me?”

“Because you hurt her,” Ladybug reasoned. But it still made no sense to him; wasn’t that all the more reason _why_ he shouldn’t break it?

“Look,” she said after an impatient huff when he failed to comprehend; he watched her drop the pendant to the ground and stomp on it. She winced, moving her foot…but the pendant remained stubbornly intact. Pristine, even.

It was just like Patchwork’s needle—for some reason she seemed to detect, Ladybug couldn’t break it on her own.

And since she couldn’t break the possessed item on her own…

Chat raised his right hand, staring down at it. So much destruction…all in the palm of his hand. It was usually a blessing…today, it was a curse. Or maybe it had always been a curse, and Chat had always been too carried away with the idea of being a superhero to notice.

He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. He had to do this. If he didn’t help now, Trinket—Kira. What would happen to Kira…?

Chat opened his eyes, scowling down at the pendant. He knelt down, flexing his clawed hand, muttering for his power’s aide before smashing his palm onto the pendant. It shattered immediately.

A terrible scream ripped through the air.

Chat clapped his hands to his ears, terrified for a second that Trinket had started screaming again for some reason, but she was too busy de-akumatizing. The screaming was, once again, inexplicably coming from the akuma that escaped the pendant, as if it was being tortured beyond imagination, beyond pain itself. Chat stared, horrified. _Why did it scream?!_

Ladybug’s yo-yo snatched it out of the air a moment later, and in a heartbeat, it was purified. Chat watched the harmless butterfly flit away into the sky for a moment before his gaze dropped to Ladybug. She was staring at him, the winter sunset glinting around her hair, almost like a halo. Her eyes were calm, watching him, like she expected him to make some connection she had already reached—

And then, as his gaze touched upon the butterfly flying away, he abruptly understood:

The akumas never screamed...unless he had directly harmed one of the victims.

_The akumas screamed because he hurt them._

The weight of such a realization fell upon his shoulders, and he hunched them, wanting to be smaller, to disappear from sight. He stared down at his clawed hands, horrified. Was _this_ going to be his legacy from now on? Being so horrible that even _akumas_ screamed because of him?!

Ladybug seemed not to care for his plight. She just did her job, calling for her restorative powers to fix the world again. Chat watched numbly as people and objects reappeared, everything put back to the way it was, as if nothing had ever happened.

But Ladybug’s restorative powers couldn’t fix the writhing shame inside him. No, that would stay with Chat until he found a way to deal with it properly.

“…Huh…what? Wh-where am I? _Baa-chan_? _Baa-chan_ , where are you?!”

Chat glanced at the de-akumatized child, only to immediately wish he hadn’t—the star tattoo that had been over her left eye had hid a black eye, and Kira sniffled, curled up with her knees clutched to her chest. The sleeve of her sweater had ridden up, and there were dark bruises on the exposed flesh of her right arm, in the shape of large fingers. Chat went cold, because he couldn’t be sure if they had already been there…or if he had caused them.

Ladybug left him to the chaos suddenly swirling within him, moving back to Kira.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

“Ladybug!” Kira squeaked, and Chat ached at the sudden adoration that filled the child’s expression. But Ladybug just smiled.

“That’s right, I’m Ladybug. I’m gonna take you to your grandma, okay?”

Kira agreed eagerly, and Chat looked away, turning around. He was no longer needed here, and besides, his Miraculous was beeping. It was time to go.

He was about to do just that when a flash of blue caught his eye once again. Chat’s head snapped towards it…but it was just the blue thing Ladybug was holding earlier. Curiosity directing him for the moment, Chat Noir made his way over, leaning over to inspect the large blue thing, though his nose registered what it was way before his eyes did:

It was a large blue feather, circles of red and black fanning the edges. Chat picked it up, noting how huge it was…much too big for a regular bird to have dropped it…

“ACHOO!”

Okay, it was a mistake to pick it up. Chat sniffled, squinting through suddenly watery eyes at the feather. Where had it come from?

“Oh, right. I forgot you’re allergic to feathers.”

The voice startled him; he hadn’t realized Ladybug had gotten so close to him again. She gazed speculatively at the feather he held before her gaze switched to him, something like amusement dancing in her eyes.

“Nice to know some things don’t change,” she noted, keeping a gentle grip on Kira’s hand. When Chat glanced down at her, she hid shyly into Ladybug’s side.

For the sake of his sinuses, Chat handed the feather off to Ladybug. If he still knew her, even after all the shit he’d put her through, he knew she’d want to keep it, because whoever had helped her avoid becoming a lucky charm in the literal sense had left this behind, and it probably warranted investigation. An investigation she would embark on her own, no doubt.

Turning, Chat Noir finally decided to make a break for it, especially because his Miraculous was beginning to throw a fit. That, and his sensitive hearing just managed to pick up the telltale sounds of protesters in the distance, their chants of “NO MORE AKUMA” filling the streets. With a sick swoop of his stomach, Chat remembered that _he_ was responsible for that. Despicable.

 As he fled, he could only gain a few steps before Ladybug’s voice halted him in his tracks.

“Chat…thank you.”

He stiffened.

No. He shouldn’t be thanked. He didn’t _want_ to be thanked. After everything he’d done—after everything he’d put her through—

How could she stand there and _thank_ him?!

It was too much. In light of what happened today—hurting Kira, making her relive trauma from an abusive parent, realizing _he_ was the reason for the _goddamned akumas to scream_ —Chat Noir had had enough. He was done being Chat Noir for today.

Vaulting quickly over rooftops, Chat fled as far as he could, as far as the end of his transformation would take him. It lasted just up until he reached the _Jardin du Luxembourg_ , and Chat de-transformed behind a large tree, catching Plagg before the exhausted kwami fell to the ground.

“You slave driver!” Plagg accused, flopping in Adrien’s grasp. “This is ridiculous! I can’t even remember the last time I ate! This is abuse!!”

Abuse.

Adrien’s mind flashed back to Kira, at the terrified way she quailed from him, convinced he was going to harm her, just like her father had harmed her.

Adrien knew a thing or two about abuse. He was never struck physically by a parent, of course, but the neglect was abundant. He had only just started talking about this stuff with Ivan, had only just begun to work through his issues between himself and Gabriel Agreste. He had talked about the emotional distance, the overbearing isolation, the fact that he’d been treated more like a company asset than an actual person…two hours’ worth of anger and resentment and loss and loneliness, and still, it was only scratching the surface…and it wasn’t enough.

Where did Adrien turn when he needed someone to talk to, but he hadn’t made an appointment to do so?

His mind immediately jumped to Marinette, but he shut that thought down; he couldn’t drop this on her, and besides, she was probably out helping Nino look for Kira right now, who was in safe hands with Ladybug…no, Adrien would not interrupt that.

But then, if not her…who?

His feet seemed to know the answer—before Adrien knew it, he was running, his heart pounding in his chest, threatening to burst. He needed to be _free_ of the burden that was this crushing guilt, his constricted heart feeling like it would collapse from such weight. He couldn’t _breathe_ with it pressing upon him, tearing at him from the inside out, like he was purposefully inhaling water instead of air, determined to suffocate himself in the most painful way possible—

Adrien burst through the door of the building where Ivan’s therapy practice was housed before he even registered where he was, approaching the startled secretary.

“Is Ivan free right now?” He hardly recognized his own voice, it was so hoarse with emotion. The secretary gaped at him, uncomfortable.

“Uh…well, yeah, he is, but you don’t have an appoi—hey! You can’t just _barge right in,_ it’s rude!!!” The secretary called after him as Adrien made a bee line directly for the doors of Ivan’s office. He ignored him, wrenching the door open and slamming it shut before the secretary could follow and give him hell.

Ivan was at his desk; he jolted upright, blinking in a startled fashion.

“Oh, Adrien,” he greeted as Adrien paced forward. “Jeez, you almost gave me a heart attack…what’s wrong?” He asked, immediately registering the distress on Adrien’s face. Adrien huffed, dragging rough hands through his hair.

“I have to tell you something,” he said in a rush, his jittery state making it impossible to stay still; he tapped his foot against the floor, rubbing the back of his head, but even that was not enough, and so he began to pace like a restless panther trapped in a cage that was far too small to be comfortable. “I’ve never told anyone before, and it’s not something I should go shouting about, but you’re my therapist and my friend, and I have to tell _someone_ or I’m gonna go fucking _crazy_ , so here it is.” Adrien stopped, his feet planted in front of Ivan’s desk, his eyes zeroing in on Ivan.

“I’m Chat Noir.”

Honestly…he didn’t know how Ivan would react to this news, whether he’d be cool...or come out of a bag on Adrien. So he just waited, on needles and pins, for the other shoe to drop.

After Ivan seemed to finish gawking at him, all he did was blink.

“Oh,” he said.

And that was it. No shouting. No accusing him of lying. No having him committed to a sanitarium.

Just 'oh'.

“That’s all?” Adrien pressed, put on edge by such a…tame reaction. “Just ‘oh’? You believe me, just like that? You don’t want me to prove it or anything?”

“I am _not_ transforming you again just for you to prove a point!” Grouched Plagg from one of Adrien’s pockets. Adrien ignored him, focused on Ivan, who frowned at the disembodied voice for a moment before coming to focus on Adrien once more.

“No, I believe you,” he assured Adrien calmly, much to the model’s surprise. “Honestly, it explains a few things…and in any case, that’d be an awfully big lie to tell for someone who’s not a pathological liar.” Ivan smiled slightly. “Besides, I usually know when you’re lying—you have a tell.”

Adrien blinked at this, momentarily sidetracked.

“I do?”

“Yeah.” Ivan’s smile grew more amused. “But I’m not telling you what it is, or you’ll just work to correct it and develop a whole new tell for me to figure out.”

Adrien frowned. Damn it.

“…While I appreciate the faith you’ve put in me so far, Adrien,” Ivan began, and Adrien made himself focus on the conversation at hand, “I don’t think you burst in here just to tell me you’re an infamous superhero.”

Infamous. That’s right. Chat Noir was infamous now.

 _He_ was infamous.

With a sigh that threatened to take his soul with it, Adrien gave up and flopped down on the _chaise longue_ , staring up at the ceiling. He heard Ivan get up from his desk, moving to the armchair nearest him. He knew without looking that the gentle giant had his hands folded loosely in his lap, knew that he had Ivan’s complete attention, despite the fact that it was not his appointment time, that he had all but kicked the door in, and he, as Chat Noir, might be very unwelcome. Ivan could’ve had other plans—he could be planning to meet with Mylene for dinner soon. It was abominably rude for Adrien to come here unannounced, and it bordered on taking advantage.

In fact, he had half a mind to march himself out right now, and still pay extra for the inconvenience, when a light pat to his shoulder stayed him.

“Go ahead, Adrien,” Ivan urged quietly. “I’m listening.”

That was all the invitation Adrien needed. He sucked in a deep breath, pushed his nerves aside, and closed his eyes.

“I hated Hawk Moth. I hated everything he stood for. I’m supposedly the embodiment of chaos, but he—”

“Excuse me, _I_ am the embodiment of chaos!” Plagg protested, zooming out into the open now; he apparently seemed to think there was no point in hiding, now that Adrien had spilled his most carefully guarded secret to Ivan. Nevertheless, Ivan stared, but Plagg didn’t seem to care as he floated smugly in the air, regarding Adrien with a lazy green eye. “Repeat after me: Plagg, god of chaos and destruction, Adrien: human disaster vessel. Get it right.”

“Uhhhhh,” Ivan said, his eyes still wide and staring at Plagg. Adrien huffed.

“Ivan, Plagg. Plagg, Ivan.”

“Charmed,” Plagg said carelessly, floating up to Ivan’s eye level. “Got any cheese around here, big guy?”

“Uhhhhh,” Ivan repeated, and Adrien was briefly amused to see the utterly perplexed look on Ivan’s face. Psychology degree aside, he had never come across something like Plagg before, so Adrien was at least satisfied with _this_ form of shock on him.

“I’ll explain later,” Adrien assured him, digging into one of his coat pockets for the camembert he was forced to carry everywhere. Once Plagg was placated, Adrien shut his eyes once more.

“Like I said, I hated Hawk Moth for the trouble he caused everyone. …But at the same time, I was thankful to him. If it weren’t for him…I never would have met her. Ladybug.”

Ladybug, the girl who had rocked his world and set the bar impossibly high for other women for the rest of Adrien’s life when he was just fifteen years old.

Ladybug, the woman who always stood up for what was right, even if she was forced to battle her former partner to uphold her values.

Ladybug...the woman who, despite all the bitterness and betrayal between them...could still find it in herself to thank her enemy for his help.

The reverence with which Adrien spoke her name must have tipped Ivan off.

“You love her, huh?”

Adrien exhaled shortly through his nose.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, resting his forearm across his forehead, his other palm flat against his stomach. “I used to think so…but the situation’s seriously fucked up right now.” Adrien sighed again, opening his eyes a crack. “That, and she’s already rejected me. I didn’t mind it so much as Chat Noir, because we were just joking around…but as Adrien…”

Ivan shifted in his seat.

“So Ladybug knows your real identity?”

“No,” Adrien admitted; the subject was still a sore spot for him. “We agreed when we were younger not to tell each other. Well…I should say that she wasn’t ready, rather. I wanted to know…but I wasn’t about to push her into something she didn’t want to do.”

It was quiet for a moment in the office, the setting sun winking through the window, giving a final parting wave before it settled in early for the night. As the amount of light in the room began to change, Ivan spoke.

“Why do you think it hurt more to have Ladybug reject you as Adrien rather than as Chat Noir?”

Adrien snorted. That was the shrink-iest question he had ever heard. Ivan didn’t ask a lot of them…or maybe he did, and just usually didn’t make it so obvious. Adrien didn’t know. He was new to this.

Because he was on Ivan’s time now instead of his own, Adrien made himself think about the question before he endeavored to answer it as fully as he could.

“Because Chat Noir has a cool suit that lets him bounce back from most anything,” Adrien said, staring up at the ceiling now. A frown creased his brow. “Adrien doesn’t. Adrien is soft and squishy, and more fragile than he’d care to admit.”

“Not to mention he gets carried away with all his ideas of what justice is supposed to look like,” Plagg called from the end of the _chaise._ Adrien had to master the impulse to kick him. Besides, he wasn’t wrong.

“Anyway, I’ve always been a little bit grateful for Hawk Moth’s existence because of Ladybug,” he admitted, shamed-faced. “Without a villain, there’s no need for superheroes. So though he kept akumatizing people left and right, a tiny part of me was grateful…because it meant that I’d get to see My Lady again.”

Realizing who he was talking to, Adrien turned, cringing at Ivan.

“Sorry.”

Ivan shrugged. His face, for once, was unreadable.

“It’s how you feel,” he said simply. Such a noncommittal response concerned Adrien, but since Ivan said nothing more, Adrien re-focused on exorcising this poisonous ball of darkness he had been carrying around for so long.

“Finding out Hawk Moth was…my father…was…” Adrien swallowed, his eyes far away, on a broken man that used to stand over him, ten feet tall, cold, unreachable. “He died right in front of me, spouting some bullshit about how he only did what he thought was best.” Exasperated, Adrien threw up his hands. “How was terrorizing Paris best?! What the _fuck_ was he talking about?! I _still_ don’t understand what he meant!” Adrien grit his teeth, forcing himself to calm down, laying his hands down on his stomach and folding them to discourage himself from throwing something.

“In any case…somehow, in the end, he’d figured out I was Chat Noir. He was looking _right at me,_ while I was Chat Noir, when he spoke his last words. I don't know how he figured it out...but he did. And Ladybug wanted to tell me—me, Adrien—right away after Hawk Moth…Father…after he died. But I—as Chat Noir—convinced her not to, because if she had to tell me, without my mask, that she was the reason my father was dead…I don’t know how I would’ve reacted. And…I’m a little scared to admit that…I might have been more relieved than upset.”

“Mhm,” Ivan hummed when he paused, just to let Adrien know that he was still listening, and that he could keep going. So Adrien did.

“After that…well, you know what happened. I moved to Milan, and no one heard from me for seven years. My aunt and uncle…they were nice people. On the surface.”

In his mind’s eye, Adrien scowled at the image of his new foster parents, their smiles aimed at him always a little too wide to be believable…but he didn’t understand what that meant until much, much later…

“They treated me well, I guess. I never wanted for anything, and they were always around when I needed a parental figure for school or other things…but their kindness wasn’t _real._ I overheard them talking one night, just after my eighteenth birthday—they threw this _awesome_ party, invited all my friends from school, got me a ton of cool presents…I was so happy that night.”

Now, the memory made him ache, remembering the naïve boy who had just reached manhood, and yet still managed to be so incredibly child-like that it was unreal. He had no one to blame but himself for what happened next…

“I was sneaking downstairs for a snack one night when I heard them arguing. My uncle was upset about all the money they’d spent on the party—it was apparently more expensive than they had agreed to in the first place. My aunt talked him down. It wasn’t that much, she said. They could afford it, after all—my mom’s family was from old money. Besides, she wanted to keep me happy. She said my uncle should drop that attitude and focus on doing whatever I wanted…because she didn’t want the family to be turned into monsters just because I was upset.”

There was a small intake of breath next to him. Adrien ignored it, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

“That’s when I figured it out: they didn’t actually care about me. I was just a relative that was dropped on them, with a fucked up past and nowhere else to go. They didn’t really get how the Miraculous worked—they seemed to think that it was a hereditary trait, or maybe witchcraft, that made my father Hawk Moth. And now that he was gone…they were sure the ‘gift’ had been passed to me. And who wouldn’t want it, right? Being able to get whatever you wanted by threatening all who opposed you with monstrous transformations that had you destroying anything and anyone you loved? My aunt was right to be afraid: what if I turned on her family next, just because I didn’t get a specific toy I wanted, or was fed the wrong kind of salad at dinner? What if—”

“You’re not your father, Adrien.”

It was the third time those words had to be spoken to him. Adrien closed his eyes.

“I know,” he muttered. “I’m still trying to decide whether that’s a good or bad thing.”

Ivan seemed to have nothing to say to that. As the seconds ticked by, Adrien went over, in his mind’s eye, what happened next, a black and white reel playing in his mind:

He had rushed back upstairs after overhearing that argument, his happiness from the best birthday party he had ever received vanishing completely. What was the point in being happy in a lie? Didn’t this mean they had never cared at all? That he was just an _obligation_ rather than a person?

Well…if they were so worried that he’d throw a fit one day and turn them all into monsters…what was the point in staying?

And so he had begun to pack, grabbing whatever his hands found first, because his mind was still reeling, trying to process through the shock of how his own flesh and blood had betrayed him once again, how he really was the tragic teen that no one understood, how he had nothing…nothing…

But then his door had opened…and then…

“My cousin caught me before I could run away,” Adrien reflected out loud, irony in his tone. “Any other time, he would’ve just ignored me—he was three years older than me, and had ignored me since I moved in, so I didn’t really bother myself with him much. But…for some reason that night…he was there. I don’t know if he was just walking by and heard me shuffling around or what—he liked to skulk through the house, I think, when he wasn’t in the library or in his room reading…but he kind of just stared at me for a second. And then he told me to stop crying. I didn’t even know I was doing it until he said something, and it was super-embarrassing. He made me sit down on my bed…and then he _scolded_ me. He told me it was absolutely foolish for me to go out at this time of night, that I didn’t have anywhere else to go, and that it would only stress everyone out needlessly if I ran off on my own.

“I didn’t take being treated like a stupid kid too well, no matter how accurate it might’ve been at the moment, and so I shouted back, saying that I wasn’t going to stick around if people were just gonna walk on eggshells around me because they were scared of me. He looked at me for a long time—I think he always knew how his parents felt about me, and I didn’t realize until a lot later that his brush-offs with me were his quiet protests of the preferential treatment they were showing me for all the wrong reasons. Finally, he took my bag, and dumped everything I'd tossed into it on the floor. And then he told me point-blank that running away wasn’t going to solve anything, and that I’d be stupid to try. And then, as he left, he looked at me one more time…”

And Adrien saw, in his mind, that cool blue gaze surveying him, finding him foolish.

“…And he said… ‘If you don’t want to be mistaken for a demon…then show them what _real_  demons look like.’”

And then he had left, leaving Adrien to stew in his anger, the injustice of the situation squirming under his skin, making him pace restlessly, helplessly, until finally…

“That’s when you got the idea to start hunting akumas.”

Ivan’s voice was quiet. Adrien didn’t dare look over at him as he nodded.

“The Butterfly Miraculous had been stolen from me before I left. I knew it was only a matter of time before a new Hawk Moth rose to power. And I wanted to be there when it happened.

“So I prepared—I studied my ass off, aced all my tests and papers, graduated from _Scuola media superiore_ at the top of my class, and then again in university with my Master’s degree in Business. In a little under a year, and though I don’t like it, mostly thanks to my father’s former influence in the fashion industry, I managed to build my own company from the ground up, all by my twenty-second birthday. I decided it was time to move back to Paris, and once the locations for my house and office were ready, I bought my plane ticket…and just when I had managed to get settled, that night, an akuma attacked the city for the first time in seven years.”

“That timing was uncanny,” Ivan had to admit. Adrien glanced over, frowning.

“Yeah, it was. Had me paranoid for a bit, like the new Hawk Moth knew I was back in town…but I don’t know how he could have known, unless he knew who I was…”

Which was impossible—just because Gabriel Agreste had figured out his son’s secret didn’t mean anyone else in Paris knew…Adrien doubted Gabriel would have confided in anyone else about something like this…

“And so the hunt began. I did everything I could to pursue what I thought was true justice…because there had to be something innately dark in these akumatized victims, right? After all, there was never more than one akuma attack at a time, and it was unlikely that everyone else was just having a really good day, save for this one person who’d been slighted in some way. There had to be _something_ about these specific victims, other than their anger or their despair, that drew Hawk Moth to them. At least, that’s what I told myself, over and over and over again…”

Adrien’s mind went to Kira, to the bruise over her left eye, to the finger marks on her arm. His fist tightened reflexively, burning with guilt.

“…But that’s not true. Hawk Moth doesn’t _cause_ the negative feelings in akuma victims. _We_ do. …I do.”

Adrien could feel both Plagg and Ivan staring at him now. He kept his gaze carefully averted to the ceiling.

“Humanity is responsible for humanity. And to blame the akuma victims for becoming victims…it’s like blaming them for _feeling,_ just like Ladybug said.” Adrien’s eyes tightened. “I knew what it was like to be blamed for my feelings, to be called irrational, overemotional. Having someone cut you down that way—it _hurts_. Like what you feel doesn’t even matter because it’s inconveniencing someone else. My father made me feel that way all the time when I was upset with him for missing something we’d had planned in favor of work, for restricting me to the house, isolating me from the world…but how was I any better, when I hunted akumatized victims for being taken advantage of by a supervillain? Didn’t I just become my father after all, with such an attitude?”

Adrien raised his hand, his silver ring glinting on his finger.

“I may have been chosen for this life, but I chose it, too,” he mumbled. “I might’ve been able to say no, to quit…but I needed this. Chat Noir was the only way I was able to feel free…and if I think about it, it’s not that different from when the akumatized victims accept Hawk Moth’s help. We all want to be free of something once in a while, don’t we? Don’t we all feel trapped every now and again? Even lost…or helpless? If I dare to judge akumatized victims for what I believed was weakness of spirit…then what about me?”

“ _How can you sit there and judge_ anyone _for wanting the power to change their life with this ring on your finger?_ ”

Adrien closed his hand, letting it fall back onto his stomach.

Marinette was right, and so was Ladybug. His way was not the way.

It was cruel. It was wrong.

 _He_ was wrong.

“I was wrong,” Adrien made himself say the words out loud, feeling years and _years_ of pent up tension leaving him at the admission, leaving him…lighter. _Liberated._ He turned to look at Ivan…at the very first akumatized victim he had ever saved, the knowledge of his guilt burning within him.

“I was wrong…and I’m sorry.”

Time stood still for one long moment.

And then Ivan slowly smiled the widest smile Adrien had seen on him to date.

“They say that the first step to recovery is admitting that you have a problem,” Ivan said. He reached over and patted Adrien’s shoulder. “You’re a bit farther than I was expecting, so I’m glad.”

“It’s _about time,_ ” Plagg drawled, zooming into the air to hover over Adrien. His tone was exasperated…but his expression was pleased. “I’ve been wondering whether or not you were ever gonna show up again, you stubborn child.” He settled onto Adrien’s shoulder, the tops of his ears brushing the underside of Adrien’s jaw. “Welcome back, Adrien.”

Adrien couldn’t help himself—he laughed, tears pricking his eyes. It felt good to laugh like this again. Usually he only laughed this way with Marinette anymore, so to do it without having to rely on her presence felt really, really good.

“Thanks,” he said to Plagg, scratching the kwami between his ears, rewarded with a purr a moment later. He sat up carefully and turned to Ivan with a wry grin. “Does this mean I’m cured, Doc?”

Ivan laughed.

“It doesn’t quite work that way…but your breakthrough is encouraging.”

“So…about the whole ‘me being Chat Noir’ thing—”

“Your secret is safe,” Ivan assured him with a nod of his head. “There’s a thing called doctor-patient confidentiality, so I couldn’t tell anyone even if I wanted to.”

“…I was just gonna say that I was sorry for making you doubt me,” Adrien finished his thought, smiling a little. “But I’m glad you’re willing to keep my secret.”

“Oh…no problem.” Ivan blushed, smiling a shy smile. “Now I can go back to thinking that you’re super awesome.”

Adrien blushed too, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Ahaha…maybe not yet…” A frown creased his brow. “There’s a lot I have to make up for, first.”

“One step at a time, Adrien,” Ivan reminded him. “And, as always, if you need to talk, you know where to find me. Just, uh…try not to take my door off its hinges in the near future, okay?”

Adrien grinned sheepishly.

“I’ll be better. I promise.”

 

* * *

 

Adrien didn’t know how he knew they’d be there today. Maybe it was just a lucky guess.

He snorted, his hand closing around the charm in his pocket, the one he’d stumbled upon as he was going through his old belongings last night, sorting through things to purge from his past, if he wanted to move forward the right way. It took him a moment to remember what this strange charm was when it fell out of a box of stuff Adrien hadn't touched in ages. The longer he stared at it, the more he began to remember—there was a video game tournament…quiche…and Marinette…

Adrien had almost sent her a picture, wanting to gloat about what he’d just discovered, after he got over the realization that he’d unconsciously kept it all these years…but he changed his mind at the last minute, cancelling the text. He wanted to see Marinette’s face once she saw the charm, wanting to see if she’d recognize it faster than he did. And so Adrien had thrown on his coat and left the house, with no direction other than a gut feeling that she and her friends might want to finish the ice cream social that had been interrupted during yesterday’s akuma attack…

And just like yesterday, he found them easily within the gelato shop. But there was a new addition today, one he hadn’t noticed until he’d already entered the shop and began to head their way, intending to march himself over there and start a conversation, no matter what it took:

Kira was among them, laughing brightly at some story Alya was telling her. She wore a pink eye patch over her left eye, bedazzled with rhinestones and other sparkly items, hiding her bruise from view.

Adrien halted in his tracks, legs locking in place.

The abrupt movement alerted Nino from his peripheral vision, and he glanced over. Their eyes met.

“…Be right back,” he said to the table after a moment, getting up and approaching Adrien, who merely stood there in the middle of the gelato shop, unsure of what to do. He could only watch as Nino drew nearer, planting his feet in front of Adrien, his golden eyes blazing. The silence was thick with tension and uncertainty.

Finally, after an excruciating moment, Nino spoke.

“Hey,” he greeted casually. Adrien blinked.

“Hey,” he returned carefully. Nino tilted his head to the side, inspecting him.

“Still stupid?” He asked.

Adrien smiled weakly.

“I think I’m getting smarter,” he admitted. Nino appeared to chew that over…and then he nodded.

“Cool.” He clapped a hand briefly to Adrien’s shoulder. “Have a seat.”

Adrien shot a grateful smile his way, and Nino smiled a bit in return. As they approached the table, Adrien noticed Marinette’s eyes go wide and sparkly, the way they usually did when she was excited about something. She was adorable.

Alya, however, was nothing but shrewdness and suspicion when Adrien carefully sat down across the table from her.

“Well, if it isn't Mr. Adrien Agreste, supermodel and CEO of Agreste Fashion,” she drawled, looking down her nose at him. “What’re you doing slumming it with us little people? Are you even _allowed_ to have ice cream on your model diet?”

Adrien glanced at Nino, who shrugged at him, which Adrien took to mean that he was on his own when it came to Alya.

“Uh…what my dietician doesn’t know won’t hurt me?” He offered with a slight shrug of his shoulders. Alya had yet to be convinced, it appeared…but thankfully, Nino decided to step in after all.

“Must be awfully boring, going to all those fashion events with nothing but twiggy models and fashion designers to talk to—no offense, ‘Nette.”

“None taken,” Marinette said graciously, her hands on her cheeks as she sipped at her malt shake.

“Anyway, looks like Mr. Agreste here decided he’d rather hang out with a cooler crowd.” Nino nodded importantly. “Guy’s wising up.”

Adrien smiled tentatively, and Alya gave a huff.

“Fine. He can stay…for now. But I’m reserving judgment, you hear that? I’m _watching you_ , buddy,” Alya assured him, pointing a threatening spoon at him. Adrien gulped theatrically, and Marinette snorted behind her hand.

“Alya, finish your story!” Kira suddenly piped up, tugging on Alya’s sleeve. The suspicion melted from Alya’s face as she turned to face Kira.

“Whoops, sorry, kid. Now, where was I…oh yeah! So the Unicorn Squad and I decide to storm the castle, ‘cause this witch ain’t got _nothin_ ’ on us, right? So…”

As Alya spun this bizarre tale of castles and unicorns and witches and magic, Adrien watched as Kira became enraptured, gasping at all the right parts, booing when the bad guys seemed to get the upper hand, and cheering when the good guys became victorious. It was so easy for Alya, Nino, and Marinette to make her laugh…Adrien was glad.

That is, until they put _him_ on the spot.

“This is a cheering up party for Kira,” Marinette mumbled to him when he froze after Alya demanded he tell a story next. “She’s…been through a lot.”

Yes, Adrien knew—more than Marinette knew that he knew, in fact. But what was he supposed to say? It wasn’t like he was a very good storyteller or anything…

As he tried to think of something, shoving his hands into his pockets so no one would see him sweat—maybe he should take his coat off—his hand brushed against something hard, and he abruptly remembered the charm in his pocket…the charm a fourteen year old girl had once given him when she wanted to encourage him…

Adrien took a deep breath. As much as he didn’t want to let go of this charm…maybe there was someone else who could use it more than he could. He just hoped it would be acceptable…

“So, uh…Kira? You like charms?”

Kira’s dark brown eye lit up at the word.

“Yeah! I collect them! But this one’s my favorite!” She gestured to the four-leaf clover pendant pinned to the front of her shirt. Right over her heart. “My mommy gave it to me. She’s…not here anymore.” Kira frowned at that before brightening a moment after. “But that’s okay! As long as I wear this pendant, I know she’s watching over me. It’s my good luck charm!”

“That’s good,” Adrien enthused with a soft smile. Digging into his pocket, he fished out the long-forgotten charm, holding it out for Kira to see. “I have a good luck charm, too.”

“Oooh,” Kira cooed, staring down at the charm in awe. “It’s really pretty!!”

“It is.” Without meaning to, his gaze slid to Marinette. “A good friend gave it to me a long time ago.”

Marinette’s eyes widened when she spotted the charm. Her face filled with red, and she ducked her gaze away from him, brow furrowing, annoyed at her embarrassment. Adrien had to work not to grin.

“I’ve kept it for a while, and I like to think it’s helped me through a lot, even if I didn’t know it.” Adrien hesitated for the space of a heartbeat, before extending his hand further to Kira. “But…I think it might help you more, now. If you want it, I mean.”

Kira’s gaze shot to his face in surprise.

“…Huh? But…but it’s _your_ lucky charm! Your friend gave it to you!”

“I know,” Adrien assured the child, “but I don’t think she’d mind if I gave it to you. You can never be too lucky, right?”

“Really?!”

“Sure.”

Excited, Kira reached out a hand, intending to take the charm—but then she flinched, her hand drawing back suddenly, staring at it. Adrien’s smile faltered. Was she all right…?

“…No,” Kira said after a moment, staring at the charm with a perturbed look on her face. “No, I don’t want it.” Abruptly, her gaze shot to his face, looking apologetic. “Oh…I don’t mean that I don’t like it or anything! It really is pretty! But…”

As her brow puckered, suddenly, Adrien understood: Kira admitted that her father used to give her presents after he abused her. Maybe she was wary of new presents now…afraid that they came with a heavy price.

Carefully, he closed his hand around the charm, drawing it back.

“It’s okay,” he promised, smiling when Kira peered up at him. “You don’t have to take it if you don’t want it.”

Slowly, Kira nodded.

“You should keep it,” she decided, her cheerful demeanor returning, bit by bit. “It’d make your friend happy to know you still have it, I think.”

Adrien smiled at the child.

“You think so?”

“Uh-huh. You should show her sometime!”

“I should,” Adrien agreed quietly, pocketing the charm again, slyly glancing Marinette’s way once more, who refused to look at him, her face burning. He chuckled under his breath as Nino reclaimed Kira’s attention with a new story about kids with elemental powers that had to save the world from an evil conqueror who could command fire at will.

“Well well…Shy Marinette. It’s been a while,” he muttered from the side of his mouth. Marinette scowled at the table.

“I’ll sic Alya on you,” she threatened, and Adrien chuckled again.

Ladybug was right: it _was_ nice to know that some things didn’t change.

 

* * *

 

“Did you have fun today, Kira?”

“Yeah!” Kira grinned up at Nino. “I really like your girlfriends. They’re a lot of fun!”

“Whoa, there, Short Stuff: only Alya is my girlfriend. Marinette’s just a friend.”

“Oh.” Kira was quiet for a moment as they climbed the stairs of their apartment building, up to the second floor where they lived next to each other. “Is she dating that blonde boy?”

“No,” Nino replied, though he did blink in surprise at the observation. “Why, what’ve you heard?”

Kira merely shrugged as they made their way down the hall.

“It just looked like they like each other,” she reasoned simply. Nino frowned at that. Huh. Well, sure, they liked each other—Marinette was the one to reach out to Adrien first, since she had to work closely with the dude for a good part of the year. Still, they did seem like they were getting closer…a lot closer than Nino would’ve thought, originally. Huh… _was_ there something going on with them?

‘ _I’ll ask Alya later,_ ’ Nino resolved; if anyone would know what was going on, it’d be his reporter girlfriend.

“Here we are: home sweet home,” Nino announced as they approached 2D, a.k.a. Yuri and Kira’s apartment. “Got your key?”

“Yep,” Kira affirmed, holding up said key for Nino to see.

“Good. Go on inside, then.” Nino grinned down at the girl as she stuck the key in the door, twisting until the deadbolt unlocked. “And let me know if you need anything, all right? I’m just next door.”

Kira peered up at him with her good eye. No matter how pretty he’d helped her make the eye patch, Nino still ached at the necessity of it. At least the scumbag bastard was back in prison now, after Kira had bravely agreed to go to the police…but only if Ladybug could come with her. And Ladybug had obliged, though she had to leave soon after…but not before making sure Kira knew that Ladybug was proud of her. It was something that warmed Nino’s heart all the way down to the bottom; at least _one_ of their superheroes still had her head on straight.

“Don’t worry, Nino,” Kira said, reaching up and patting his hand in a placating manner, as if she could sense his concern for her. “I’ll be fine. I have my lucky charm.” She gestured to her pendant with a smile. “And one day, I’m gonna use this charm to fight bad guys like Ladybug!”

Ah, the spotted hero of Paris had gained another fan. It was well-deserved, of course…but Nino couldn’t help but be a little envious of the hero worship that had entered Kira’s expression at the thought of Ladybug.

“I’ll be rooting for you, kid,” Nino assured her with a thumbs up. “Say hi to your grandma for me.”

“I will!” Kira chirped, grinning toothily at Nino before she slipped inside her apartment and shut the door. Nino was only satisfied when he heard the deadbolt slide home once again, and he let out a sigh. Interesting day: Adrien Agreste might not have devolved into a terrible human being after all…and he and Marinette might be a _thing_.

The most important thing, however, was that Kira was smiling again.

Nino had his door halfway unlocked before he remembered that he hadn’t grabbed his mail yet. Cursing mildly under his breath, he pounded his way back down the stairs to the lobby, where the stainless steel mailboxes awaited, mounted into the wall. Nino rolled out the combination that would unlock the box labeled "LAHIFFE, N.", and cringed at the abundance of post that awaited him. That’s what he got for only checking once a month around bill time, he supposed…

With a resigned sigh, he headed back upstairs and into his apartment, flopping down onto his couch and facing the coffee table so he could begin The Sorting.

“Okay, lessee…junk, bill, subscription to a magazine I don’t care about, junk, bill, junk…hm?”

From under a flyer for a new type of metabolism pill rested a black box, unmarked. As Nino lifted it to eye level, he frowned, unable to remember ordering anything that required a package recently.

“What’s this…?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whatcha got there, Nino...?
> 
> :D
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	12. Surprise! pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeeep, another two parter, because I am past the point of no return, and despite what you all say, NO ONE NEEDS A SIXTY PAGE CHAPTER. (And yet I still continue to write them...) This one's fluff; the next part's action.
> 
> I seem to be following a pattern here. =_=;
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

“Ouch!”

Marinette winced as she managed to prick her own finger with her sewing needle for the fourth time in twenty minutes. She _really_ should slow down, or she was going to slowly bleed to death before the day was out. But she was so close! Just a few more stitches…and…

“Done!” Marinette announced proudly, sticking her needle into its pin cushion and taking a step back to admire her work.

Working with leather was a little harder than Marinette had anticipated, but even so, she was pleased with her creation: artful tears ran up and down the sleeves of the jacket, giving it the appearance of being shallowly clawed, as if a tiny cat with abnormally sharp claws had taken to climbing the sleeves for fun. Marinette circled her sewing mannequin to nod her approval of the design on the back of the jacket—shallow tears here, too, but dominating the back was a criss-cross of wider tears, bringing into view a large, green paw print, obscured slightly by the remaining strips of leather crossing it, but still distinguishable as a paw print all the same.

As Marinette nodded, satisfied, Tikki zoomed forward to rest on her shoulder.

“Wooow…at first I was scared when you brought out the saw…but this is _wonderful_ , Marinette!”

“Thanks,” Marinette said, grinning. “But you haven’t seen anything yet…”

She moved over to her light switch, cutting it off. Her curtains were already drawn over her balcony doors, blocking out any light…which meant that the only light available was from the green paw print on the jacket, incandescent in the darkness, almost…pulsing, as if it were alive. Tikki gasped, and Marinette giggled.

“Cool, huh? Luminescent paint,” she explained, cutting the lights back on. “Took ages to get off my hands, but I think it was worth it. Hmm…” She hummed, circling around to the front of the jacket again and tilting her head. “I think I’ll add another paw print just above the pocket here on the front…maybe not one that glows, but definitely a green one…”

“Chat Noir would love this,” Tikki commented, and Marinette’s smile faded, replaced with a frown.

Speaking of the rogue cat…she hadn’t seen him at all, despite there being a couple more akuma attacks since the last time she’d encountered him. Ladybug had to admit that it was a little easier to do her job without him mucking things up, and his protesters were a little less rowdy with their leader nowhere in sight…but the déjà vu really wasn’t appreciated. He hadn’t disappeared off the map again, had he? Not when she felt like she was finally getting through to him…?

Marinette let out a sigh. That stupid stray was going to be the death of her if she kept fretting over him like this.

Besides, he wasn’t the only mystery that required her attention at the moment…

Marinette turned her gaze to her work desk, where her sketchbook lay open to Chat Noir’s intended design, his unfinished mask lying beside it. Above both those items, resting casually on the desk, was a large blue feather with black and red rings at the edges. Marinette moved over to the desk, picking it up again to examine it. It was truly an exquisite feather—she was almost dying to incorporate it into one of her designs—but it was evidence as well. There was an unknown ally working behind the scenes, and they had left behind this feather as proof. Ladybug might have been finished had it not been for this mysterious ally…but for whatever reason, they were choosing to stay hidden in the shadows, out of sight. Why?

“Tikki,” Marinette said, twisting the feather in her fingers, “this is a peacock feather, isn’t it?”

“It looks like it,” Tikki agreed, floating up to get a closer look at the feather.

“Then, does that mean…that the Peacock Miraculous holder…is helping me?”

Tikki sighed.

“I’ve said it already, Marinette—I have no way of knowing that.”

“Yeah, but this is pretty big evidence, isn’t it?” Ladybug noted, running her fingers through the soft down of the feather. “I’d be a key chain hanging off Trinket’s dress right now if it weren’t for this.”

“That’s true…” Tikki sighed again, sinking back down onto Marinette’s shoulder. “I really want to talk to Master Fu about this.”

“Me, too…” Marinette eyed her phone, where it lay on her bed nearby. “…I don’t feel comfortable calling him while he’s recovering, though. Let’s save it for an emergency.”

“Good idea,” Tikki agreed. “I suppose it can wait—we’re doing fine on our own for right now.”

“Yeah…”

Still…

Marinette threw a quick glance to the box under her bed with a frown. Having the responsibility of the Guardian of the Miraculous was beginning to wear on her…but she couldn’t very well just dump the chest on Master Fu the minute he got back anyway, because his Miraculous was still missing. Did this mean that Marinette would have to take over for him…?

“The Butterfly…” Tikki suddenly said, and Marinette tore her gaze away from the box.

“Where?”

“No, I’m talking about the name of the new Hawk Moth,” Tikki explained, zooming into the air to meet Marinette’s gaze head on. “Trinket mentioned it, remember?”

Oh, right. Marinette had almost forgotten; since so much had happened during that battle, such a tiny detail threatened to slip right from her memory.

“The Butterfly,” Marinette repeated, frowning. “It’s not as intimidating as Hawk Moth…but at least we have a name now, right?”

A tiny frown crossed Tikki’s features.

“Yes…but we still don’t know what this new enemy wants.” She descended, resting in Marinette’s free hand as she returned the peacock feather to her desk. “Have you noticed? None of the akuma have demanded your Miraculous after Patchwork. They all just rampage around Paris until you stop them. That doesn’t make it very clear what The Butterfly is after…”

That was true, and it was troubling: from the beginning, Hawk Moth made it clear that his goal was the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous, though what he intended to do with them died with him, and remained a mystery to this day. But The Butterfly—if that was indeed the chosen name of their new nemesis, and not just a name Trinket used to describe them—had not bothered to make contact with them at all. They just kept throwing new akuma at them every other day, with no established goal other than to cause trouble, it seemed.

Then, if they were not after Ladybug’s and Chat Noir’s Miraculous…what _were_ they after?

Her phone buzzed on her bed, distracting Marinette. She dropped Tikki off on her usual pillow before flopping down on the bed. She could afford to sit down and check her messages for a bit; now was as good a time as any to take a break from her work.

Adrien’s name glowed across her screen, and Marinette snorted. What did this nerd want?

_Adrien: Hey, I know we have a meeting tomorrow…_

_Adrien: …But am I going to see you beforehand for our morning jog?_

**Marinette: Ugggh, do you know how cold it is? It’s the middle of December!**

_Adrien: Fine, then no Christmas present for you._ _:P_

Marinette rolled her eyes.

**Marinette: Again, not necessary for you to give me gifts while we’re out running.**

_Adrien: I know, but it’s like, a_ thing _now._

**Marinette: It is most definitely not a thing.**

_Adrien: It’s_ totally _a thing._

_Adrien: It’s such a thing now that you can’t stop its thingness._

_Adrien: People look at the thing while it goes by and whisper to each other, ‘Hey, check out that thing over there.’_

_Adrien: It’s a thing. Deal with it._

**Marinette: Why are you such a dork, and how did I get stuck with you?**

_Adrien: Birds of a feather?_

Marinette was going to kick him tomorrow morning.

**Marinette: Ffffffiiiiiiiiiine. I’ll freeze my ass off tomorrow just so you can give me my gift…though I don’t understand why you can’t just give it to me when _I’m coming to your office tomorrow anyway._**

_Adrien: I never mix business with pleasure._

…Was he flirting with her?

Marinette shook her head. No way, he was just being…well, Adrien. Adrien Agreste, it turned out, was a huge dork. Marinette was still trying to get over the (false) disappointment.

**Marinette: It better be good, Mr. Agreste.**

_Adrien: It is, Miss Dupain-Cheng. :)_

_Adrien: So…_

_Adrien: While we’re on the subject of tomorrow’s meeting…_

**Marinette: I’m not showing you until it’s finished.**

_Adrien: Aw come on!_

**Marinette: Nope.**

_Adrien: Pleaaaaaaase? *Sad puppy eyes*_

**Marinette: You’re supposed to use them in person. They’re ineffective in a text.**

In response, Adrien sent her an emoji of a black kitten with big, pink, sad eyes. Marinette bit her lip to keep from giggling.

**Marinette: That’s a cat.**

This didn’t seem to bother Adrien; he just bombarded her with several more cat emojis. Marinette was beginning to suspect that he had installed a shitload of cat emojis to his phone just to annoy her…or maybe because he just liked them that much. Marinette wasn’t sure which one was more disturbing.

**Marinette: I’m turning off my phone.**

_Adrien: Ahhh, nooo!_

_Adrien: I’ll stop, I’ll stop!_

_Adrien: See?_

_Adrien: Stopping._

_Adrien: No cats here._

_Adrien: These aren’t the cats you’re looking for._

_Adrien: Move along._

**Marinette: Nerd.**

_Adrien: Yep. :) So I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning?_

**Marinette: I hate that you’re a morning person.**

_Adrien: I know. :D See you tomorrow!_

**Marinette: You’re buying me breakfast for this.**

_Adrien: I think that can be arranged. :)_

It better—the promise of bread and chocolate made the prospect of getting up earlier than she had intended more bearable, especially if Adrien was going to be paying for it. Her parents, if they had their way, would’ve kept giving him food for free, except that Adrien put his foot down one morning, reminded them that they had a business to run, and that he could _more_ than afford to pay for the pastries they kept pushing onto him. And so they compromised—Adrien paid half price for every pastry, and Sabine made him promise to come around for dinner some time when he wasn’t so busy.

Marinette smirked at the thought, knowing her mother would do her damnedest to feed Adrien up while he was under her roof since he was “so _terribly_ thin, does he _actually_ eat? Do they let him eat, Marinette? I ought to have a talk with his dietician; the boy’s too lean for his age! Let Adrien eat!”

Marinette was looking forward to seeing how much food Adrien could get down before he had to admit defeat under her mother’s doting; she bet he had _nothing_ on how much Marinette herself could put away.

Laughing to herself, she got up and stretched for a moment, smiling happily at her finished Chat Noir jacket before she returned to her work table to finish up the mask. The main pieces were about done, so Marinette supposed it wouldn’t do any harm to bring them in to show Adrien tomorrow…but she wasn’t about to tell him that. Better to see him sweat, since she knew how eager he was to see the finished product. And she hadn’t _quite_ forgotten how he’d reacted the first time she brought in anything to show him…

Marinette frowned, the perfectionist within her swelling with determination that bordered a little on indignation. If she was going to bring in anything, she was going to make sure that they were finished to her _complete_ satisfaction. Because if Marinette was proud of it beyond a shadow of a doubt, then Adrien wouldn’t have anything to criticize about it.

And she _dared_ him to try.

 

* * *

 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Adrien greeted her as she met up with him on his usual corner, bright and cheery, as if it was nothing for him to get up at five a.m. to go for a six a.m. morning run.

Marinette hated him and his stupid, casual grace, looking perfect even in a track suit. Ugh, he made her sick.

She grumbled something that might’ve been a morning greeting, though there was certainly nothing _good_ about it, continuing to jog in place since she was unwilling to stand still in the cold, _god_ , it was freezing. Adrien chuckled.

“Little chilly?” He teased. Marinette glared at him, and he held his hands up in surrender. “Whoa, okay, no jokes right now. Sorry.”

“What’s in the bag?” Marinette bothered to ask, noticing the wicker handle that hung from one of Adrien’s thumbs, attached to a large black bag. Gold letters were stamped across the front, but before Marinette could get a closer look at the word, Adrien dropped his arms and hid the bag behind him.

“Your Christmas present,” he said simply with a shrug. But his eyes were mischievous. “Should you choose to accept it, anyway.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow.

“Do I need a grappling gun?” She quipped sarcastically. Adrien laughed and shook his head.

“Nah. But you will need this.”

From out of his pocket he withdrew an envelope with a fancy seal on the back. He handed it over to Marinette, who blinked up at him.

“What’s this?”

“Open it and see,” Adrien invited. Marinette gave him a look.

“It wouldn’t actually kill you to be straightforward for once, would it?”

“It would be terminal,” Adrien contradicted her with a serious look…though the corners of his mouth twitched. “Are you gonna open it or what?”

Again, how did she get herself stuck with this dork?

With a longsuffering sigh, Marinette slit the envelope open, pulling out a tiny, well-decorated card…with her name on it. Curious, she opened the card, reading the scrawling cursive out loud,

“ _Mademoiselle Marinette Dupain-Cheng, it is our great pleasure to invite you to the Sainte de-Coquille Winter Ball—_ what?! THE Sainte de-Coquilles?! Are you serious?!”

“I take it you’ve heard of them,” Adrien teased as Marinette gaped up at him.

“Heard of—it’s a fashion designer’s _dream_ to be invited to one of their events!! People _murder_ for these invites!! How—how did you get _me_ one?!” Marinette sputtered, unable to comprehend.

Adrien merely shrugged.

“I have to show my face since I’m the CEO of Agreste Fashion. And I’m allowed to bring a plus one, sooo…” Adrien rocked back on his heels, smiling down at her. “You free this Saturday?”

This Saturday was Christmas Eve.

Marinette was going to scream.

Hell _yes_ she was free this Saturday! Hell, she’d clear an entire _month_ of her schedule for one of these events! It was last minute, sure, but Marinette was certain she’d be able to scrape together something to make herself look presentable…she must have _some_ outfit from the past that she could fix up really fast to be good enough for a _Sainte de-Coquille event_ …or maybe she’d just use the rest of her rent money to spring for something. Who needed to eat when she was going to the _Sainte de-Coquille Winter Ball?!_

She was about to jump up and down and make an utter fool of herself…when a sudden thought struck her, and she paused in the middle of raising her arms, the scream building within her dying away.

Wait. If she was Adrien’s plus one, then…

“…What about Chloe?”

The question made Adrien blink.

“Chloe? What about her?” He asked, causing Marinette to frown. Was she missing something here?

“You’re not taking her?” She fished. Adrien only stared down at her, perplexed.

“Do you…not want to go?”

“I’d _love_ to,” Marinette rushed to assure him, a part of her screaming at her to _drop it, drop it now, if he wasn’t taking Chloe then good for her, shut up!_ But something about this didn’t feel right…and she had to know… “But doesn’t it look bad if you show up with a friend rather than your girlfriend?”

Adrien sputtered.

“Girl—what?”

Marinette’s brow furrowed further.

“You _are_ dating Chloe, aren’t you?”

“No!” Adrien exclaimed, flushing pink. “Da—god, I _grew up_ with Chloe, she’s like a _sister_ to me! Why would you think we’re dating?!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Marinette drawled, raising her eyebrows now, “maybe because the last time I saw her, she was wearing your shirt?”

Adrien clearly needed a minute to pinpoint when that moment was. Marinette waited, running a finger longingly over the lace trim of the invitation, looking up only at the soft exhalation that was Adrien’s realization.

“Ohhh.” He shook his head. “She was wearing it just to wear it, Mari. I swear,” he insisted when Marinette leveled a flat look at him. “There’s _nothing_ going on between me and Chloe, romantically.”

Marinette took in Adrien’s expression, the wide innocence of his eyes, the openness of his expression. He wasn’t lying—there was nothing between him and Chloe. Dimly, she wondered if Chloe herself was aware of that. She was betting on not…or very strong denial, in any case. But that was Chloe’s problem.

But, then again…

“She won’t be happy if she finds out you’re taking me to the Sainte de-Coquille Winter Ball instead of her, though.”

“Chloe hates the Sainte de-Coquilles,” Adrien informed Marinette with a sigh. “Something about the eldest son and an offense about comparing her hair to straw…it’s this whole thing, so I doubt she’ll want to go.”

“She might change her mind once she finds out you’re taking me,” Marinette pointed out, and Adrien frowned.

“Hmm…you might be right,” he mumbled, looking troubled. Marinette, though it killed her inside, decided to give him an out.

“You can invite her instead, if you want. If you think it’s easier just to avoid the trouble—”

“No,” Adrien said, the firmness of his tone surprising Marinette. Sure, Adrien had had his moments in the past when he was tired of Chloe’s bullshit and let her know it, but he generally just did whatever it took to appease her. That appeared not to be the case anymore, however…he had changed for the better somewhat too, Marinette supposed.

“Are you sure?” She asked, biting her lip. But Adrien nodded.

“Positive. Besides, it’s too late to change the name on the invite.” He tapped the invitation in Marinette’s hands, making his pout exaggerated as he asked, “You’re not gonna make me go alone, are you…?”

Marinette frowned at him. She was experiencing such a weird bout of déjà vu right now…

And for some reason, it just felt natural to poke Adrien’s nose when he leaned too far over her, trying to use the force of his puppy eyes to win her over.

“All right, I’ll go,” she agreed, smirking at the way Adrien wrinkled and rubbed at his nose, giving her an odd look. She stuck her tongue out at him and, realizing they had just been standing there for the past ten minutes, decided to begin her jog. “You’re gonna have to give me a couple days to figure out something to wear, though.”

“Ah. Well, since you’ve accepted the invitation…that leads us to your Christmas present.” Falling into step beside her, Adrien revealed the mysterious black bag once again. Marinette stared at him.

“You do _not_ have a dress in there for me.”

“I do.” Adrien winked. “In your favorite color, no less.”

Marinette’s jaw dropped.

“Noooo no no no no no,” she protested immediately, jogging faster, as if she could outpace the problem. But Adrien merely lengthened his stride, and Marinette cursed. Damn him and his long model legs…

“What’s the problem? Saves you the stress of having to find something last minute, right?”

“A dress is _way_ more expensive than a pen or a pin,” Marinette explained with a huff, keeping her gaze determinedly forward, avoiding the temptation that was the black bag in Adrien’s grip. “That’s one gift I definitely can’t accept, jogging or otherwise.”

“Oh come on, it’s Christmas. I’m allowed to splurge on my friends,” Adrien said. “Especially because I know you like the brand…”

Marinette couldn’t help herself; she glanced over just as Adrien raised the bag again, finally able to read the name on the bag: Chanel.

Her legs locked into place, halting her so suddenly that she stumbled and would have fallen, were it not for the sudden grip on her arm, steadying her.

“Whoa, you okay?”

There was laughter in Adrien’s voice, and Marinette straightened her snow hat, scowling up at him.

“I can’t accept this dress,” She insisted, though her eyes strayed longingly to the bag, wondering what it looked like. “Besides, isn’t it a conflict of interest for you to be purchasing expensive dresses from your competitors?”  

She saw Adrien purse his twitching lips, threatening a smile.

“I’m feeling generous. And are you sure you can’t accept it? Not even a dress that you’ll look amazing in, turning heads as you walk into the hottest party for couture, on the arm of a devastatingly handsome model?”

Marinette raised her eyebrows slightly at the last comment; someone certainly thought a lot of himself, didn’t he…?

“It probably won’t fit,” she reasoned out loud, both to him and herself. “It’d cost a lot to have it tailored…and I don’t know if I’m good enough to tailor a Chanel dress on my own…”

Adrien raised an eyebrow, his expression suggesting that he couldn’t believe Marinette would think him so naïve.

“It’ll fit,” he assured her with a nod, “trust me.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Well…” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away from her, his face pinking slightly. “Alya has your measurements…”

Marinette felt her eyes bug out.

“You went to _Alya?_ ”

“She seemed like a safe bet. I owe her a favor now, though…and I gotta tell you, Mari, I’m a little bit scared.”

“You should be,” said Marinette, working a thick edge of menace into her tone. For something to do, she resumed her jog, shaking her head for a straight minute. “So, wait…the Winter Ball is this Saturday…but before even _inviting_ me, you somehow had the foresight to get me a dress and even ask _Alya_ for my exact measurements? Just how long have you been planning this?”

Adrien smiled.

“I’m a man of strict schedules.” He lifted the bag with a wink. “And I’m always prepared.”

Marinette snorted despite the awe she could still feel rippling through her.

“What’re you, a Boy Scout?”

“I might be.” He jiggled the bag delicately, letting it hang from his index finger. “So?”

Marinette paused again, though she had a red crosswalk light as an excuse this time. She turned to Adrien, gaze switching between the bag and his expectant, even eager face. He had clearly put a lot of thought into this, determined to impress…and it _was_ Christmas…

‘ _Just don’t ask about the price tag!_ ’ Her mind insisted, and she sighed, defeated.

“All right,” she relented, making sure to make her expression as put-out as possible as she reached up for the bag. “I’ll take the—”

Adrien moved the bag out of reach. Marinette blinked up at him, taking in the suddenly speculative look on his face. Her brows furrowed.

“What?”

“…This suddenly feels too easy,” he remarked, tilting his head to the side, wickedness beginning to gleam in the green depths of his eyes. “A gentleman invites a lady to a ball, and she responds by making a big fuss about it, from the invitation itself to the dress…only to change her mind a moment later, willing to accept. I can’t help but feel like I should make this more difficult for you.”

The flat look returned to Marinette’s face.

“That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of you,” she pointed out dryly. Adrien flashed a grin that was…rather wild…on him.

“Maybe not, but I never said I was a gentleman all the time.”

Marinette made a swipe for the bag, but Adrien only hoisted it higher, his grin widening.

“Adrien,” she growled in frustration, but he wagged a finger at her, clucking his tongue.

“Now now, you were so eager to make this difficult for _me…_ ”

The crosswalk turned green, and Adrien dashed across, faster than Marinette was used to. She gaped at him as he grinned at her from across the street, dangling the bag like a carrot in front of a donkey.

“You want the dress? Come and get it,” he challenged before he turned on his heel and _flew_ down the street. Marinette wasted a few precious seconds gawking after him, unwilling to believe that had really just happened. The shock wore off rather quickly, however, and she scowled.

That _little shit!_ The very _second_ she decided she could live with such an expensive gift, just this once, he decided to pull the rug out from under her! Ooh, when Marinette caught him, she was gonna _kick his ass!_

“Adrien!” She snarled, kicking it into high gear as she raced across the street, determined not to lose sight of his stupid blonde hair. “Get back here!”

Only his laugh answered her, whipping by her, the wind carrying it away. Marinette growled and poured on the speed, determined to catch the slippery model. She thought she had him, when he rounded a corner too sharply and ran the risk of running into a trash can—she smirked at the thought of Adrien sprawled out on the sidewalk, hopefully not too hurt, but certainly dazed enough to make him think twice about pulling such a stunt ever again—

Her smirk dropped when Adrien simply _vaulted over_ the trash can, landing lightly on his feet before continuing to sprint. Again, she gawked. Holy hell, he _was_ in good shape…

Marinette did the same without thinking twice about it, smirking at the brief bewildered glance Adrien sent back at her before he faced forward again, running faster. If he expected such a little thing to trip her up, he was clearly underestimating her.

As they neared _Boulangerie Patisserie_ , Marinette realized that she could use the area to her advantage. She’d been swinging through here as Ladybug for _years_ —she knew all the back alleys like the back of her hand, and she knew which loop-around would help her pull ahead with little effort on her part. Grinning, she veered off down a side street. She didn’t slow up for a second, though there was more debris back here than there would be on the sidewalk, but years of ducking and dodging akuma attacks made this a breeze. She swerved, the main street coming back into view just after she leapt over an empty crate. Adrien was just reaching her, glancing back—he had slowed down because he couldn’t see her anymore behind him, and he thought he had lost her. His guard was completely down.

Perfect.

Not slowing her momentum, Marinette jumped onto a nearby streetlight, using the pole to swing her way around in front of Adrien. He turned a second too late, spotting her just as Marinette was diving onto him. She had a split-second to watch his eyes go wide in his face before they were colliding, and then collapsing. Adrien took the worst of the fall, his back and his head hitting the concrete with a dull thud as Marinette landed on him, thighs clamped down on his abdomen, the rocky fall barely winding her. She cringed, glancing down at Adrien, wondering if she had accidentally concussed him—

“…Pfft! Ha ha ha ha!”

Marinette blinked, registering the laughter issuing from Adrien with some surprise. He had a hand clapped over the left side of his face, his right eye squeezed shut, grinning hugely as he laughed. It was…cute.

Marinette frowned in concern.

“Did I knock something loose in there?” She asked, daring to delicately touch the side of Adrien’s temple, as if she could assess the damage just from there.

“Ahaha! Ha ha…no. I’m fine,” Adrien assured her, looking up at her with his uncovered eye, still grinning. “You just surprised me, dropping out of nowhere. For a second, I mistook you for Ladybug.”

Marinette kept her expression neutral through sheer force of will.

“I think you hit your head too hard,” she teased him lightly, hoping such a response would be enough to dispel any suspicions he had on the subject. “Are you sure you’re not bleeding or something?”

“I’ve had worse,” Adrien assured her, sitting up a little. She tilted her head at him.

“When? Did a light fixture fall on your head during one of your photo shoots?”

Adrien’s look turned dry.

“If that ever happened, I wouldn’t live to tell you about it,” he assured her. “Besides, I was talking about fencing.”

Oh.

“You still fence?”

“Nah. No more time. But I still manage to stay in shape in other ways…”

There was a glimmer of a secret in his eyes. It made Marinette curious…but she had other pressing matters to attend to.

“Well, since you’re feeling fine…I believe I won the challenge, Mr. Agreste.”

Adrien laughed, raising the black Chanel bag, which had miraculously remained unruffled.

“I guess so. All right, all right—the princess can go to the ball,” he teased, handing the bag over, which Marinette accepted with a smug nod.

“That’s what I thought,” she answered, and Adrien grinned.

There was the sudden sound of a tinkling bell, and they both looked up.

Sabine stood in the doorway of the bakery, looking very amused about something.

“Well, good morning, kids,” she greeted them, leaning against the doorframe for a moment, folding her arms. “Am I…interrupting something?”

It took Marinette far too long to understand what her mother was implying. Once she glanced down, however, she registered too late that she was sitting in Adrien’s lap, practically straddling him, after tackling him to the ground.

All because she couldn’t stand to lose.

Her face turning bright red, Marinette scrambled off of him immediately, jumping to her feet.

“Nope!” She squeaked, her voice too high to be considered natural. In her haste to make sure everything looked _perfectly normal,_ she yanked Adrien to his feet as well, ignoring his look of surprise aimed at her and laughing with a light, airy voice that did not fit her at all. “Morning, Mama!”

“Morning, Sabine,” Adrien greeted as well, and though he was also blushing, it was a significantly less amount than Marinette. “We’re here for breakfast.”

“Are you sure?” Sabine asked, touching her lips delicately, though Marinette could still see the smile breaking through. “You two looked _rather_ busy—”

“Mama,” Marinette cut in as she and Adrien blushed darker, “we’re hungry.”

“I’ll bet,” Sabine replied, turning and leading them into the bakery. Not daring to look up at him, Marinette followed her mother, cursing the woman’s timing and her own obliviousness.

“Morning, kids,” Tom grunted from behind the counter, hauling what looked like heavy trays into the back room with the ovens. From there, he called, “Any luck on the job front yet, Marinette?”

“No,” Marinette sighed. Though she was loathe to talk about her failure in this department, anything that distracted her mother from what she _thought_ she saw outside would do. “It just takes me mentioning my name, and then, before I know it, I’m being shown the door for every boutique I’ve visited so far. I wouldn’t be surprised if Symone is blackballing me…”

“That’s terrible,” Sabine said, her kind features crumpling with worry. “The nerve of that woman…”

“Well, if you need some extra cash, Marinette, you know we could always use an extra pair of hands here,” Tom said as he reentered the room, laden down with freshly baked bread.

Marinette sighed again. Great—going back to her lycee job of baking bread with her father. Not that she didn’t love her parents, but from going to having her foot firmly jammed in the door of the fashion world to returning to the hot ovens of her parents’ bakery…it wasn’t encouraging.

But though her pride put up a very good fight, in the end, her common sense—and her bank account—won out, and she sighed once more, this time in defeat.

“I may have to take you up on that, Papa,” she replied regretfully, though she tried for a smile. “I’ll send you my resume later.”

“I’ll only accept applicants who love bread more than life itself,” Tom replied with a serious tone, though he was grinning as he moved past them to stock a nearby shelf. “You’re free to apply too, Adrien, if you ever get bored of your modeling.”

“…I’m sorry, what?” Adrien asked; Marinette looked over to find him blinking stupidly, pulled out of his trance that the scent of fresh bread had pulled him into. Marinette muffled a giggle behind her hand.

“Well, I hope you kids don’t mind, but I thought we could sit down and eat breakfast today,” Sabine announced, ushering them past the counter and into the house. It hadn’t changed much since Marinette moved out—perhaps only the pictures on the bookshelf showed just how much time had passed, with her lycee graduation photo with Alya, a photo snapped of her mid-celebration when she had gotten the acceptance letter from IFA, things of that nature. As she set down her jogging bag and the Chanel bag, Marinette caught Adrien staring at the photos, and she shooed him away to the table, where a _mountain_ of food awaited them. _Awesome._

“Eat up, honey,” Sabine encouraged Adrien, taking an empty plate and filling it for him. “I swear you look thinner every time I see you…are you _sure_ you’re getting enough to eat?”

“He’s a model, Mama,” Marinette reminded her mother for the dozenth time, pulling a plate towards her without hesitation and grabbing whatever was closest so she could dig in immediately. “They keep him on a very strict diet.”

“More like they’re starving him.” Sabine sniffed in disapproval, placing a loaded plate of food in front of Adrien. “Now eat up, young man—I want to see a clean plate before you leave.”

As Sabine whisked off to the fridge for orange juice, Adrien gave Marinette a martyr’s grimace. She giggled, her cheeks bulging dangerously with her mouth full of food.

“Just eat,” she encouraged him, once she had swallowed. “Mama’s an excellent cook.”

“I’d never turn my nose up at free food…” Adrien picked up his fork, looking strangely guilty. “I just feel bad for cheating on my carefully constructed diet.”

“Oh it’s fine,” Sabine said, setting down glasses of orange juice for Marinette and Adrien. “You’ll be able to work it off in no time, I’m sure, what with all the running around you do.”

“We only jog for about an hour every morning, Mama.”

Sabine smiled, something mysterious about the gesture.

“Of course,” she answered, and then left it at that. Marinette gave her a curious look, but Sabine promptly distracted her by pointing out that her food was getting cold. To avoid such a tragedy, Marinette ate more, contributing to the conversation Sabine struck up with Adrien about his company when her mouth was clear.

To her great surprise, Adrien beat out her record of triple helpings at breakfast with two more plates.

Marinette was furious.

 

* * *

 

“Is that it?”

“Yes…now, it’s not the whole outfit yet, just the main pieces—”

“Marinette—”

“—So before you get all critical, just remember that this isn’t the whole thing—”

“Mari—”

“Let me _finish_. This isn’t the whole thing, but since you were so eager to see progress, I’ve brought in what I _did_ finish. You know what the end result is supposed to look like, so I want feedback on what can be improved on these two pieces _only._ Think you can manage that, Mr. Agreste?”

“Yes, okay, fine,” Adrien answered in a rush, nearly bouncing in his seat in anticipation. Marinette bit her lip to keep from grinning. “Can you show me now? Please?”

‘ _Those puppy eyes_ are _dangerous,_ ’ Marinette noted to herself once more, shying away from Adrien’s gaze. It was annoying that a grown man could still manage to be so cute.

“All right, all right,” she relented, amused at the grin Adrien tried to stifle, without much success. Shaking her head, Marinette carefully undid the zipper of her garment bag, very aware of the way her heart pounded in her throat. It was fine…she could do this…

‘ _Jacket first…_ ’

Moving the mask further into the bag, Marinette carefully tugged the leather jacket free, holding it up for Adrien to see, carefully turning it front to back. Her teeth moved to worry her bottom lip despite herself as Adrien stared at the jacket.

“Well?”

Slowly, Adrien stood up, staring down at the jacket. Marinette felt her heart pound harder as he moved forward, a hand raised, yet he did not touch the jacket. Rather, he just held his hand up to the paw on the back, as if he was matching the print. The silence in the office stretched for an uncomfortable amount of time, until—

“This is _so damn awesome,_ ” he breathed, and a miracle grin lit up his features, like…well, like a kid on Christmas. Marinette let out the breath she’d been holding in a _whoosh,_ allowing herself to smile.

“You like it?”

“It’s _so much cooler_ in person!” Adrien enthused as Marinette obligingly spun the jacket around once more for him to see. He reached out, tapping the mini bell she had attached to the zipper, grinning wide at the jingling sound. “Does the paw print really glow in the dark like you planned?”

“Yep,” Marinette answered, bragging just a little now. But she couldn’t help it—seeing Adrien so pleased with something she designed was a major ego boost. Her friendship with the CEO aside, Marinette was feeling really good about her chances of winning this challenge now.

“So cool,” Adrien sighed again, and Marinette allowed herself to giggle now.

“I take it you’re a Chat Noir fan?”

The smile faded from Adrien’s face, drawing Marinette’s curiosity.

“I mean…he’s okay,” he replied, frowning a bit. “He was better, in the past…but I’m more of a Ladybug man myself, anyway.”

Marinette felt her face turn red, and she cursed herself for it. He…wasn’t still in love with Ladybug, was he?

‘ _It’s hard to make eight years of feelings just disappear,_ ’ Marinette reminded herself, glancing away from Adrien. Poor guy…Marinette wished there was something more she could do for him to help him gain closure…

“Speaking of Ladybug…”

Marinette snapped to attention, her wide eyes on Adrien’s face.

“Y-yeah?” She questioned in a voice a bit too squeaky to sound natural.

‘ _Calm down,_ ’ she scolded herself, forcing a deep breath to keep her from freaking out, ‘ _he has no idea who you are…_ ’

And he wouldn’t ever find out, if Marinette had anything to say about it…

“I noticed you haven’t designed anything for her, yet,” Adrien continued, and the tension left Marinette’s shoulders. “The bee and fox outfits are cool…but aren’t you going to make something for her, too? I don’t think she’d be happy to find out she’d been snubbed for a Marinette Dupain-Cheng design.”

Marinette snorted at that. As if Ladybug would care about something so silly.

“I _want_ to,” she admitted to Adrien, laying the Chat Noir jacket carefully within the garment bag once again. “Just…being forced to design all those Ladybug outfits for Symone left a sour taste in my mouth.”

“Ah,” Adrien sighed, nodding in understand as he moved back to his usual couch, sitting down. “Understandable. So you’re not going to design one?”

“I never said that,” Marinette chided him with a shake of her head, shifting her garment bag so that the jacket rested comfortably inside. “I’m gonna save her for last.”

“Oh, that’s good. For a second, I was worried you wouldn’t make anything for her after Symone—”

“Symone didn’t break me,” Marinette interjected huffily, her hands on her hips as she glared down at her garment bag at the thought of Symone. “I just need some time, but I _will_ make something for Ladybug.”

“That’s good.” There was a smile in Adrien’s voice; Marinette glanced over to find said smile on his face as well, eyes warming. “After all, what’s Chat Noir without Ladybug?”

“You have that backwards,” Marinette said automatically, the words thoughtless. It was only when Adrien proceeded to stare at her that she realized what she said. She cleared her throat and tore her gaze from him, rooting around in her garment bag for Chat Noir’s mask now.

“…Are you a Chat Noir fan, Mari?”

Marinette frowned, feeling herself flush for no good reason.

“Well, like you said, he was better in the past,” she huffed, frowning at the thought of the rogue cat. “I _really_ hate the turn he’s taken, especially because it feels so sudden…but…”

But that look on his face the moment Trinket started screaming…the moment he realized the extent of the harm he caused the akuma victims…that wide-eyed, horrified look on a face she used to know well, transformed by time, hardened by unknown experiences…

Marinette picked up the mask she’d designed, a thoughtful finger tracing the cat ears at the top of the mask.

“…But I still believe in him,” she said softly. “There has to be good still in him. He just needs to realize it, first.”

Realizing that she’d been babbling, Marinette turned to show her next piece to Adrien—and was promptly surprised by the blush that filled his features, his gaze torn from her, focused on the wall of glass across the room. He was rubbing the back of his neck, looking embarrassed and uncomfortable. Marinette blinked, startled. Was he all right?

“Adrien?”

He snapped to attention, suddenly sitting straighter, as if he was about to be reprimanded for being caught slouching. Marinette frowned now.

“Are you ok—”

“I’m fine,” he insisted a little too quickly. Marinette stared as he coughed, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Just, ah, my stomach’s acting up a bit. Think I might’ve overdid it at breakfast.”

“Oh? Couldn’t take the heat after all, huh?” Marinette couldn’t help but tease, still stinging from her most recent loss. Adrien grimaced at her.

“Maybe not.” He cleared his throat. “So, is that the mask?”

Changing the subject, hm? Marinette let it go this one time—he looked like he was suffering enough on his own.

“Yeah, here it is.”

Marinette felt a bit guilty—she had done a lot more work on the jacket than she had on the mask, but it was a smaller project, so she supposed nothing could be done about that. Still, she was proud of it: the edges were rough and sharp-looking, matching the scheme of the jacket without being uncomfortable to wear, thanks to the mesh she added underneath to protect the skin from the sharp edges of the mask. It was black, of course, with two small, pointed cat ears added at the top, the insides painted green to go along with the color scheme. She had managed to carve a cat’s nose at the tip of the bridge of the mask, to hang over the tip of the model’s nose, and surrounding the bridge of the mask—Marinette’s favorite part—were thin, clear, plastic strips that stuck out at strategic points of the mask, creating whiskers. Marinette giggled to herself as she turned the mask around for Adrien to see.

“What do you think? Enough like a cat to be passable?”

Marinette paused when Adrien frowned. Uh-oh.

“What?” She asked warily when Adrien pursed his lips. It took him a moment to open his mouth and articulate what was bothering him, but once he did…

“…It has whiskers.”

Marinette arched a brow.

“So?”

“Chat Noir doesn’t have whiskers,” Adrien pointed out. Marinette rolled her eyes.

“I know he doesn’t _actually_ have whiskers.” No one knew that better than her, actually…but Adrien didn’t need to know that. “This outfit is _loosely_ based on his costume, remember? So I took some artistic liberties.”

“Yeah, but… _whiskers?_ ” Adrien practically pouted, and Marinette worked hard to keep her temper in check. Okay…she could handle constructive criticism…she could do this…

“What exactly about the whiskers is bad?” She asked in a professional voice, tilting her head at him. “Does it not fit with the scheme? Is it a bit too cute to be allowed? Do they look bad?”

Adrien frowned, gripping his chin as he inspected the mask. After a moment, his face noticeably fell.

“…No,” he admitted, sounding irritated. “It…pulls the mask together well, actually. And they’re not too flashy, so it’s not like they draw focus immediately, just when you’re looking closely…it’s a good addition.”

“So what’s the problem?” Marinette pressed, scenting victory just within her grasp. Adrien _did_ pout this time, and Marinette was torn between the desire to laugh and pinch his cheek and the desire to bop him on the head and remind him that he was a grown man, for god’s sake.

“Chat Noir doesn’t have whiskers,” he repeated stubbornly, and Marinette let herself sigh.

“Well, good thing we’re not making Chat Noir wear this, isn’t it?”

Adrien pursed his lips.

“I suppose…” Giving himself a slight shake, he tore his gaze from the mask, choosing to focus on Marinette instead. “Won’t the sharp edges hurt anyone who puts the mask on?”

“Oh, no, I took care of it,” Marinette promised, flipping the mask around so Adrien could see the mesh underneath. “This’ll protect the face of anyone who has to wear the mask.”

“Really?” There was a note of doubt in Adrien’s voice, and Marinette frowned.

“What, you don’t trust me?” She stepped forward, raising the mask. “Here, why don’t you try it on and see for yours—”

Adrien caught her wrists before she could press the mask to his face, his eyes suddenly wide.

“Oh, that’s okay,” he said in a rush, laughing a laugh so strained it caused Marinette to raise an eyebrow. “I trust you, Mari, I promise. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“Okay…?” Frowning a little at his odd behavior, Marinette looked pointedly down at his hands, and he dropped them, muttering an apology for grabbing her so suddenly. She gave a shrug, turning to replace the mask within her garment bag before she sat down, facing him, hands folded in her lap. “So? Am I on the right track?”

“Definitely,” Adrien enthused with a more natural smile. “The jacket is amazing, and the mask…fits, despite my, er, reservations.”

“Your unreasonable reservations,” Marinette commented with a dry look that had Adrien grimacing in apology. “Seriously, you’re a stickler for the details, aren’t you?”

“Sorry,” Adrien apologized with a slight shake of his head. “Forget I said anything. The whiskers are fine.”

“I thought so,” Marinette replied, and Adrien chuckled a little. “I plan on starting on the boots next. They’ll fit more closely with Chat Noir’s design, with the cat toes and the design on the bottom.”

“Right…” Adrien raised an eyebrow. “You seem to be very familiar with the design of his costume.”

Marinette held her head up high, nose in the air.

“I’m a designer. It’s my job to pay attention to the little details,” she sniffed. Adrien brushed his mouth with the back of his hand, and Marinette frowned. What was he smirking about?

“If you say so,” was all he said. Marinette opened her mouth, prepared to call him on whatever it was that was making him look at her like that—

“Mr. Agreste,” Sylvia’s voice called through the intercom, and Marinette regretfully snapped her mouth shut, “your next appointment is here to see you.”

“Time’s up,” Adrien announced needlessly, getting to his feet, waiting for Marinette to do the same so he could walk her to the hall, hands clasped behind his back as she hoisted her garment bag over her shoulder. “I’m glad you brought in what you have so far. Now I’m really pumped for you to finish.”

“Don’t rush me,” she teased him, smiling a little as she folded her garment bag carefully over her arm. “I’ll finish it when I finish it.”

“No pressure,” Adrien assured her, raising his hands in a placating manner. “Just letting you know, I’m excited.” He grinned. “I’m sure a lot of men in Paris would love to have a badass Chat Noir jacket of their own, myself included.”

“Well, maybe that dream isn’t that far off,” Marinette said, smiling. “We’ll find out come March, won’t we?”

The intercom beeped once again, their banter interrupted.

“Mr. Agreste? Should I send up your next appointment?”

“Someone’s impatient today,” Adrien muttered, raising a brow at his desk. Marinette snickered.

“We _are_ just standing around chatting at this point,” she reminded him with a shrug. “You’d better answer that…and I’d better go.”

“See you tomorrow morning?” Adrien wanted to check, and Marinette made a face as she shrugged into her coat and muffler.

“Don’t count on it,” she told him dryly, and Adrien chuckled.

“Then I’ll most definitely see you Saturday.”

“Right, about Saturday—where are we meeting?”

“I’ll come pick you up,” Adrien assured her with a smile. “Can’t have a princess walking to the ball, can we?”

Marinette blinked up at him. That was twice he’d called her a princess today…and it made her feel strange, reminding her uncomfortably of a certain rogue cat that would not be named…

“Okay…what time are you picking me up, then?”

“How’s six?”

“That works. I’ll send you my address later.”

“I already—” Adrien began, and then abruptly stopped, his face growing pale. Marinette blinked up at him, alarmed at his change in expression.

“You already what?” She asked, tilting her head to the side. Adrien coughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I already…have my tie picked out,” he finished. “You know. Pink. We’ll match.”

“Oh.” Marinette searched his face. It didn’t seem like he was lying…but still, it felt like that wasn’t what he was about to say…or maybe she was just being paranoid?

His intercom beeped for the third time.

“Mr. Agreste? Are you there?”

“It’s like she thinks you’re holding me hostage or something,” Adrien mumbled, huffing as he approached his desk. As he finally answered Sylvia, Marinette turned away, fishing her gloves out of her pocket with a twist of her lips. Perhaps Sylvia was worried they were up to something else entirely, up here in Adrien’s office…but that was ridiculous. Marinette wasn’t that kind of girl, after all.

Then again, Sylvia had no way of knowing that…so it was time to go. She was holding up Adrien’s appointments by standing around chatting about nothing.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Agreste,” Marinette called over her shoulder, pressing the elevator button, the doors sliding open immediately to admit her. As she stepped in, turning to push the button for the ground floor, she caught the tail end of Adrien’s smirk.

“My pleasure, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” he replied, sinking into a bow. Marinette rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the answering smirk that strayed across her face just as the elevator doors slid shut, and she descended.

Well, that had gone better than she had expected…Adrien absolutely _loved_ the jacket, which was more than encouraging.

…In fact…

Hmm. Marinette had been planning on making her Christmas gifts this year, being so strapped for cash at the moment. She hadn’t figured out what she would make Adrien yet—perhaps a hat, despite what he said about the cold not bothering him anyway—but maybe he’d like a jacket a little bit more…?

After Marinette was gone, Adrien straightened up, a sigh of relief escaping him. Well, _that_ had been needlessly stressful…

“Smooth,” called a little voice from one of his desk drawers. Adrien frowned, spotting tiny green eyes peering up at him from a crack in the almost-closed drawer. “What was that—about three close calls? You’re getting sloppy, Adrien. There’s already one person out there who knows your secret—do you really wanna risk it and make it two?”

“Shut up, Plagg,” Adrien grumbled, completely shutting the drawer now. Not that it would stop Plagg if he really wanted out—

Sure enough, the kwami merely phased through the drawer door, floating up next to Adrien and regarding him with a dry look.

“Look, just because Ivan was understanding doesn’t mean Marinette will be,” he reminded Adrien. “You’re not supposed to just tell people anyway—anyone you tell is in terrible danger because of you, remember?”

“I’ll be more careful,” Adrien promised with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “They were accidents, I swear. It’s just…easy…to talk to Marinette.”

Dangerously easy. Plagg was right—those calls were way too close, and Adrien had to do better.

Plagg let out a huff, sinking down onto the desk.

“You really need to get a grip,” he griped, “telling your therapist, I suppose I could let slide, but bringing your girlfriend into this—”

“Whoa,” protested Adrien, holding up a hand to halt his kwami, his face growing hot. “Why is everyone assuming I’m dating my friends today?”

Plagg merely stared at him for a moment before giving a hearty sigh.

“You know what? Never mind. I give up. You’re hopeless.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Plagg!” Adrien called, but the kwami ignored him, disappearing into his designated drawer once again, no doubt to nap or plow through the stash of camembert hidden there. Adrien had half a mind to yank the drawer open and demand to know what Plagg was talking about, but his elevator chimed, and his next appointment rushed in, forcing Adrien to give a smile and drop the issue.

For now.

 

* * *

 

“No Nino today?”

“No,” Alya grumped, scowling down at her sherbet. “He’s been stupidly busy lately. He says it’s because of the record company, organizing appearances and promos for him, but I have yet to be invited to any such event.” Alya huffed, stabbing at her ice cream with unnecessary vigor. “I’m kicking his ass for neglecting me as soon as he has a free moment.”

Marinette reached across the table, patting her friend consolingly on the arm.

“Come on, Alya, be fair: Nino never complains when _you’re_ busy with work, right?”

“…I guess not…” Alya admitted begrudgingly. Marinette smiled.

“I’m sure things’ll die down once he gets everything straightened out,” she assured her best friend. Alya gave a resigned sigh, but she looked placated by the end.

“Yeah…let’s stop talking about the boy for a second to focus on another one.”

Uh-oh. Marinette dreaded this moment…but as soon as the suspicious gleam entered Alya’s hazel eyes, she knew she was done for. She should’ve just stayed home today…

“ _So,_ Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Alya began, pointing her spoon at Marinette like a microphone…or a shiv, depending on one’s point of view. “What’s this I hear about you going on a date with _Monsieur_ CEO/Supermodel Adrien Agreste tomorrow night?”

“It’s not a date,” Marinette answered with a roll of her eyes; she had been repeating this fact too much to her mother lately, whom she had had to tell to explain her absence from their Christmas Eve tradition of baking holiday cookies for Santa…a tradition that still held to this day, despite Marinette knowing better by now. “It’s two friends, going to a party. And by the way, I don’t much appreciate you giving Adrien my measurements without asking me first.”

“He and Nino ambushed me,” Alya admitted, scowling at the memory. “They were on about doing something special for you for Christmas, and how Adrien wanted to get you something really spectacular to thank you for being such a wonderful friend…that guy’s sweet talk is dangerous, girl. I’m a little worried for you.”

Marinette smothered a smile, sympathizing with Alya completely.

“I can handle him,” she assured her friend with a wave of her hand. “And apparently, Adrien Agreste now owes you a favor.”

“Oh yes,” Alya affirmed, her grin growing wicked. “And that is not a position he wants to be in…but I’ll let him sweat for a while before I actually cash in.”

“You already have a favor in mind?”

“Oh yeah.”

“What?”

Alya set down her spoon, folding her arms under her as she leaned forward, fixing Marinette with a serious stare.

“I’m gonna tell him not to go breaking your heart again.”

Marinette blinked, startled speechless by the unexpected response; it was a moment before she could say anything.

“Wha…Alya, don’t be silly,” Marinette protested with a shake of her head. “We’re not even in a position for Adrien _to_ break my heart. We’re just friends.”

A small, sad, knowing smile crossed Alya’s features.

“Mari, I’ve known you for forever at this point,” she said, as if Marinette needed reminding. “I’ve celebrated all your triumphs with you, and I’ve suffered with you through every heartbreak and disappointment you’ve ever had to go through. Don’t you think I know better by now?”

“If you know so much, you should be able to tell that I’m not kidding,” Marinette pointed out with a slight lift of her brows. “Adrien and I are _just friends_ , Alya, nothing more.”

“Yeah…but I have a feeling it won’t stay that way for long,” Alya said, her tone dire.

Marinette frowned at this. For god’s sake, couldn’t she be good friends with a boy without it being misconstrued as romantic? Okay, yeah, sure, she had feelings for Adrien when they were younger, but that was different—she had just been a stupid kid back then, crushing on a model she was too awkward to ever properly speak with. She had grown up since then, and so had he…very well, in fact…and he was a little more playful and open with every passing day that she knew him, and despite what he said about fifteen year old Adrien being a lie, there was still that same quiet kindness about him as there was back then…it had just taken Marinette a while to find it, behind the iron, Gabriel Agreste mask he’d clumsily crafted in an attempt to hide his true nature—

“You’re crazy,” Marinette insisted, shaking her head at her best friend. “I promise, there’s nothing going on between me and Adrien Agreste, nor will there be in the future, ever.”

Alya raised her eyebrows, her hazel gaze glinting mischievously behind her glasses.

“You seem confident.”

“That’s because I am.”

“Confident enough to make a bet?”

Marinette leveled a flat look at her best friend.

“Seriously, Alya?”

“Hey, you said yourself that nothing’s going on,” Alya pointed out, taking a bite of her sherbet to hide her smile…and not quite succeeding. “Since you’re so sure, what’ve you got to lose?”

Marinette raised a dark brow. A part of her couldn’t help but think that this was a trap of some kind…but the competitive streak in her had already sensed the challenge, and was now rising to the occasion, overriding all other reasoning in Marinette’s brain.

“All right,” she allowed, smirking a little. “I could use the extra cash in my pocket—not that working at my parents’ bakery isn’t helping me out…”

“Oh, right, how’s that going?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Marinette chided Alya, her smirk growing. “You wanted to make this bet, so let’s make it: name your price, Cesaire.”

Alya grinned.

“All right: if you win, I’ll give you anything you want, with only the exception of eternal servitude.”

Marinette’s eyes flew up to join her hairline.

“Speaking of confident…”

“But if _I_ win,” Alya went on, as if Marinette hadn’t spoken, pointing her spoon at Marinette once again, “ _you_ have to send me a text that reads, and I quote: “Alya, you are the all-knowing queen of my life, and I am in serious trouble. I need your guidance.””

“What, that’s all?” Marinette said dryly.

“That’s all,” Alya replied quite seriously, nodding. “Because I’m gonna need to know so I can prepare the ass-whoopin’ of Adrien Agreste.”

Marinette had no idea whether or not Alya was serious. She decided not to ask.

“Okay…so, what’s the time limit on this bet?”

Alya shrugged as she ate her sherbet.

“‘Till the end of next month.”

Marinette nearly choked on her shake.

“T-that’s it?” She coughed and sputtered, clearing her throat with the help of a few well-placed thumps on her back, courtesy of Alya. “You’re just _ready_ to lose, huh?”

“Don’t be so cocky.” Alya finished her sherbet, leaning her chin on the back of her hand as she surveyed Marinette from over the rim of her glasses, that knowing little smile back in place.

“After all…it’s only a matter of time.”

The double meaning in Alya’s words was promptly and studiously ignored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Plagg and Alya are all of us. XP
> 
> Psst...Adrien. Your Chat is showing...
> 
> Part Two will be up on Friday. (My Friday, probably your late Thursday night. :P)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	13. Surprise! pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
> Eh. It's midnight here, so it's Friday.
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

Marinette gave a yawn, shivering in the chilly wind. Stupid winter. Why couldn’t it just be spring already?

She clutched the bag of warm pastries closer to her chest, taking comfort from the smell of freshly baked goods. While a part of her was not thrilled to be working at the bakery again, Marinette couldn’t turn down the cash, and she had to admit that it was nice to be able to spend so much time with her parents again, after working at Symone’s boutique had limited her visits to once a month, if she was lucky.

Of course, things were a little more complicated, now that her mother kept hinting at how very _lovely_ it would be to have Adrien join them for Christmas…but Marinette digressed.

She sighed, passing by the Seine and smiling at all the Christmas decorations as she walked. It certainly was festive, wasn’t it? Despite her intense dislike of the cold, Marinette couldn’t not love the feeling Christmas inspired in her, all the joy, the love, the giving spirit, the cheer…it was just a lovely time of year.

“ _It’s lovelier with someone to share it with. And think of poor Adrien, all alone in that big house of his…_ ” Sabine’s voice butted into her mind once again, and Marinette rolled her eyes with a sigh. First her mother, then Alya…was it too much to ask to just let her lack of love life be? It wasn’t like she was looking to be with anyone right now anyway, so what was the big fuss about—?

A sudden roar of rushing water startled Marinette out of her thoughts. She jumped, head snapping towards the Seine, where a large _wave_ was rising inexplicably out of the water—a wave that should not be possible—

At the very top of the wave was an aquatic-looking figure: thick ropes of seashells hung around its neck, its skin rough and covered with dark blue scales, three rounded antennas sprouting at the top of its head, giving it the appearance of a cartoonish sea monkey advertisement. It held a sharp-looking trident in its right webbed hand, the three prongs sharpened to a painful-looking point. It had a distinctly masculine shape, and when it spoke, it was in the deep rumble of a male voice:

“PARIS LAND-DWELLERS! NO MORE SHALL YOU DIRTY THE WATERS OF THE SEINE! THIS RIVER NOW BELONGS TO POSEIDON, AND ALL WHO DARE TO SPEW THEIR FILTH HERE WILL FEEL MY WRATH!!!”

Marinette yelped and dived out of the way just as the Seine flooded, splashing water onto the bridges and soaking the transfixed citizens in sludge from the river, said sludge hardening and trapping them in place. Laughing heartily, the akuma sunk back into the Seine, the tip of his trident the only tell-tale sign that he was moving upriver. Marinette ducked into a nearby alley, cursing under her breath. Seriously, an akuma? So close to _Christmas?_

She looked sadly down at her bag of pastries before dropping them to the ground. As much as she wanted to be able to take them home—hell, as much as she would have liked to have had a peaceful night—the akuma couldn’t wait. And she wasn’t about to let Paris suffer just for her comfort.

“Ladybug time?” Piped up Tikki, popping up from out of Marinette’s muffler.

Marinette sighed, and then nodded.

“Ladybug time. Tikki, transform me!”

One magic transformation scene later, Ladybug was out swinging through the streets, answering cries of her name with an assuring nod and wave. No need to panic, after all…she had this under control…

Swinging to the _Pont-Neuf_ , Ladybug perched herself on the bridge, scanning the water for any sign of the akuma calling himself Poseidon.

The water was still. Too still. As if it were waiting for her to make the first move.

Ladybug scowled. She didn’t want to have to go in there—she couldn’t really fly if she was underwater. And Chat would’ve hated the idea even more…if he were around…

‘ _Focus,_ ’ Ladybug reminded herself with a shake of her head. Now was not the time to be worrying about her wayward ex-partner. She had to problem solve her way out of this and get the akuma to show himself…but how…?

He was yelling something about filth, earlier…and dirtying waters…

Was this particular akuma upset about the pollution of the Seine?

Glancing around, Ladybug spotted something that would suit her purposes: an empty plastic bottle. Trash, as it were.

Using her yo-yo, Ladybug snagged the bottle, holding it high over her head and staring into the murky depths below. There was no way she’d even _think_ about doing this under normal circumstances—littering was _wrong_ —but desperate times…

Inwardly arguing with her conscience, insisting that it would draw the akuma out that much faster, Ladybug took a deep breath, and then dropped the bottle into the Seine. It smacked into the surface of the water with a ‘plop!’

Nothing happened.

Just as Ladybug was about to growl in frustration, however, a sudden roaring ripped through the air—another large wave rose from the Seine, manifesting in the shape of a _hand._

Ladybug gawked at the sheer power of this akuma, remembering too late that she shouldn’t be standing still—

The aquatic hand seized her. Ladybug yelped and squirmed, but it was like struggling within the grip of a titan—there was no give, and Ladybug could only hold her breath as she was sucked underneath the surface of the Seine.

But even here, the strong grip of the aquatic hand did not relinquish her. Panicking now, Ladybug struggled, fighting with all she had, even trying to use her Lucky Charm, but her yo-yo was smashed against her hip, out of her reach with her arms pinned to her sides. The more she fought, the quicker she lost strength, and her vision was getting blurry…everything was going dark…she was floating, floating away…

It was fucking _freezing,_ suddenly.

Ladybug gasped, rolling over and coughing up a lot of foul-smelling river water. There was a firm pat to her back, helping her expel the disgusting water, and Ladybug felt her heart leap. It was about damn _time_ the stupid stray showed himself again—

“Holy _shit,_ ” said a distinctly _different_ voice, making Ladybug freeze up in alarm. “You okay, LB? I thought for a second I wasn’t gonna make it, and, well, having you drown on my first night out would’ve been a _big_ stain on my budding superhero career—”

Ladybug whipped around, wrenching away from the stranger, eyes wide and taking in…taking in…

Green. Lots and lots of varying shades of green: green boots, green gloves, green bodysuit, green hood, green mask, green-rimmed goggles.

And brown, olive, and gold.

Ladybug blinked.

“Who—who the hell are you?” She sputtered, gagging around the taste of Seine in her mouth.

The olive-skinned man in green blinked gold eyes from behind his goggles.

“Oh, I’m, uh…” He paused, rubbing the back of his hood. “You know what, I don’t have a name yet…can you give me a day or two to think about it and I’ll get back to you?”

Ladybug stared. A new Miraculous holder? But, as far as she knew, she had the only two remaining Miraculous, save for the mysterious Peacock Miraculous…so who—?

Her eyes immediately dropped from the mystery hero’s face, searching his person for some sign of a Miraculous—

And she found it there on his left arm: a jade bracelet hooked securely around his wrist.

Master Fu’s bracelet.

Abruptly, Ladybug forgot that she was cold—her rage was enough to warm her into a frenzy.

“THIEF!” She spat at the stranger, ignoring the bewildered look that crossed his features as she snatched at his arm. “You _stole_ this Miraculous!!!”

“What?! No, I didn’t!!” The green stranger protested, clutching his wrist protectively to his chest as Ladybug made a swipe for the bracelet. “It was given to me! I was Chosen, just like you!!”

“Bullshit!!” Ladybug snarled, leaning forward to fight with the stranger, hands scrabbling at him as he did his best to dodge around her, the two of them eventually climbing to their feet, Ladybug quickly advancing on him as the stranger quickly backed away, detaching a heavy-looking green shield from his back, a hexagon of gold in the center, and holding it between him and Ladybug. “That bracelet was stolen from my mentor!!”

“You mean Master Fu?” Asked the stranger, and Ladybug stopped, brought up short by this stranger’s knowledge of Master Fu. “The Guardian of the Miraculous, right? I met him! He said it’s cool! Dude’s pretty chill, for an old guy…”

Ladybug paused, scowling at the stranger.

“…You know Master Fu?”

“Yeah! He’s been training me for the past week! I didn’t steal anything, LB, I swear!”

Hold on: if that was true, then what the hell was going on here? Master Fu’s Miraculous was stolen by an unknown enemy…and yet this green stranger was telling her that he’d been training with Master Fu with his stolen Miraculous? What did he take her for, a chump?

And yet…

A war was waging fiercely within Ladybug: half of her insisting that this stranger was a liar, and to snatch the Miraculous he stole and shove him into the Seine. The other half held her impulsive rage back, insisting that there had to be more to the story here…after all, if the guy was all bad, he wouldn’t have saved her from drowning, would he?

There was a distant scream and the sound of rushing water, and Ladybug cursed. She didn’t have time for this.

“I have an akuma to take care of,” She said shortly, sending out her yo-yo to the nearest roof, about to let herself fly.

“Whoa, wait up, LB!” The stranger in green called, moving closer to her, sliding the straps of his shield back on so that it rested against his back. “I can help!”

Ladybug appraised him with swift eyes. Despite her reservations toward him, she had to admit that he seemed capable—and the turtle theme of his suit would no doubt be helpful against a water-based akuma. And Chat, sadly, was still nowhere in sight…

“Come on,” the green stranger pressed when he seemed to realize that Ladybug was hesitating. “Have I done anything to prove that you can’t trust me?”

Not necessarily, though his thieving was still in question. And Ladybug was wary of new superheroes that came out of nowhere automatically, thanks to her run-in with Volpina…

Thinking quickly, Ladybug retracted her yo-yo, staring at the green, turtle-themed hero. He straightened under her gaze, as if that would be enough to prove himself…and Ladybug huffed.

“Fine. While we’re looking for the akuma, you can explain to me _exactly_ how it is you got hold of the Turtle Miraculous, and _exactly_ when you met Master Fu, and _exactly_ when he became “cool” with this.”

“Then I’ll tell you _exactly_ what happened,” said the green stranger, and Ladybug scowled; being a smartass was not going to get him on her good side. He seemed to realize it, too, for he laughed nervously and suggested they start looking for the akuma as he explained.

“Fine. See if you can keep up, Shell Boy,” Ladybug taunted, taking off immediately, following the swelling of unnatural waves from the Seine.

“Shell Boy?” Questioned the green stranger as he kept pace beside her, frowning at the given nickname. “Nah, if anything, it’d be Shell _Man_. And that’s a little too kiddish, anyway. I was thinking something more like Michael-Angelo, or Donatello. That way, when we’re fighting akuma, my war cry could be, “Cowabunga, bitches!” Oh man, that’d be _so_ awesome…”

Oh great. Another nerd. As if Ladybug didn’t have to put up with one of those alrea—

…Oh. Right…

Well, since this was his first night out, she supposed she wouldn’t spoil it for the rookie…provided he was as innocent as he claimed…

“Worry about your super name later and start talking about how you became super in the first place,” Ladybug reminded him, sliding a scowl his way. Shell Boy grimaced and finally obliged.

As they searched for Poseidon, Shell Boy spun a tale that Ladybug was very familiar with—he came home one day last week, found a mysterious black box buried within his mail, opened it up, and suddenly, a green talking turtle fairy was calling him ‘Master’.

Naturally, he freaked out.

“I thought I was going crazy,” he admitted sheepishly as Ladybug scanned the waters for any movement before moving on. “I’ve never done drugs before, but I swear that’s what it felt like. Little green dude, talking to me, calling me ‘Master’ and saying I’m Chosen to be a superhero? Shit was like straight out of a comic book. It was nuts.”

Ladybug slid a frown Shell Boy’s way. She was getting the weirdest feeling from him…like he was familiar. But she’d surely recognize the guy if she knew him, right? After all, what were the odds of her running into someone she knew in real life in costume as well? There were _thousands_ of people in Paris; it was more statistically sound that she didn’t know this guy at all…right?

‘ _Then what about all the akuma when you first became Ladybug?_ ’ Reasoned a voice in her head, and Ladybug’s frown deepened. True…the akuma _did_ have an odd way of creeping up around her, transforming people she cared about into temporary menaces…

“What’s the name of your kwami?” Ladybug asked, deciding to quiz him to see if he was on the up and up.

Shell Boy grinned.

“Little dude’s name is Wayzz,” he reported, briefly cradling his bracelet. “He’s super chill, too. We’ve been bonding for the past week.”

“So you were Chosen last week?”

“Yeah. After Wayzz did his spiel—half of which I didn’t hear ‘cause I was freaking out too much to calm down—I found a note in the box.”

“A note?” Well, that was more than Ladybug had ever gotten.

“Yeah.” Shell Boy nodded, frowning thoughtfully. Ladybug stared at him, the crease of his brow so very familiar…and those gold eyes, magnified by the goggles he wore… “There wasn’t much to read, though: all it said was, ‘If you have questions, call Master Fu.’ And then there was a number, and that was it. No signature, nothing.”

Ladybug frowned.

“So then, how do you know you were actually speaking to Master Fu?” She asked, her head beginning to spin from this unexpected development. Shell Boy literally popped out from nowhere, saved her life, and then claimed he was the new Turtle Miraculous holder, with Master Fu’s apparent blessing leading him. But he didn’t know Master Fu like Ladybug did…how could she be sure that he had met the real thing?

Maybe…was it possible that this guy was just a victim? That he had been shoved into the Miraculous world by the _real_ thief of Master Fu’s Miraculous? If that were the case…what would Ladybug do? Could she, in good conscience, take the Turtle Miraculous from the poor, scammed bastard, stating that it needed to be returned to its rightful owner, when this guy was already so convinced that he had been Chosen?

And what’s more, was Wayzz a willing participant in all of this? Or was he being bullied to comply, just like the Butterfly Miraculous kwami, Nooroo? Just what was going on here?

“Dude invited me out to meet him,” Shell Boy announced, breaking into Ladybug’s troubled thoughts. “He was all chill, with that ‘wise master’ trope going on. Gave me some tea, and answered most of my questions…for the most part. I dunno, a lot of what he said still doesn’t make sense to me…”

Well, that _sounded_ like Master Fu…but even so…

“Describe him,” Ladybug insisted, stopping again to scan the Seine for any signs of disturbance. Shell Boy paused beside her, glancing up to the sky and gripping his chin in thought.

“Hmm, lessee…short dude, salt and pepper hair, tiny little beard he likes to stroke when he’s being extra-wise, _awesome_ red Hawaiian print shirt.” He glanced over at Ladybug, smiling a little. “Do I pass, LB?”

Ladybug frowned. Okay…there was a good chance that it was indeed Master Fu that Shell Boy was talking about…but if that was so…what did this mean…?

“Why didn’t he _tell_ me?” She burst out loud, stamping her foot in frustration. “I’m _Ladybug!_ I need to know these things, damn it! I’m _sick_ of surprises!”

“Uh, well,” Shell Boy spoke up, looking nervous at her sudden display of temper, “to be fair…Master Fu didn’t know who I was until I called him.”

Ladybug rounded on him.

“What?! But you just said—”

“I know, but it turns out, _he_ wasn’t the one who personally Chose me. It was someone else acting on his orders. Some dude he calls Pavone.”

“Pavone…?” Ladybug scowled into the water, thinking hard. “That sounds Italian…”

“Italian for what?”

Before Ladybug could think of the answer, Shell Boy accidentally kicked a pebble into the Seine when he scuffed his boot against the pavement. The water suddenly began to churn next to them, and Ladybug jumped back, holding out an arm to shove the rookie back as well, not eager to take a second dip in the filthy water of the Seine. She glared as Poseidon emerged from the depths, pointing his sharp trident at them.

“INTRUDERS!” The akuma howled, his scaly face contorted with fury. “WHAT BUSINESS DO YOU HAVE WITH THE MIGHTY POSEIDON? SPEAK, OR I SHALL DROWN YOU IN THE FILTH THAT POLLUTES THIS RIVER THANKS TO _YOUR_ HANDS!”

“Dude, you are _mega-_ cranky,” Shell Boy remarked idly. “Did you skip dinner or something?”

“I AM _CRANKY,_ TURTLE BOY, BECAUSE MY BEAUTIFUL SEINE CONTINUES TO SUFFER BY THE HANDS OF _LAND-DWELLERS_ THAT DON’T APPRECIATE ITS BEAUTY!!” Poseidon roared. “I SHOULD THINK THAT YOU OF _ALL_ CREATURES SHOULD UNDERSTAND!!!”

“I’m more of a land turtle, man,” Shell Boy quipped with a shrug, enraging Poseidon and bringing a begrudging smirk to Ladybug’s lips.

“FINE!!! THEN YOU SHALL SUFFER LIKE THE REST OF THEM!!!”

Poseidon spread his arms wide, and a _disgusting_ amount of sludge suddenly rose from underneath him, rearing up, a cobra poised to strike, before, with the direction of his trident, he sent it directly at them at an alarming speed. Ladybug cringed, raising her arms in measly defense—she didn’t want to run the risk of using her yo-yo to deflect the sludge, only to have it gunked up and useless—

“LB, over here!”

A hand yanked her down to the ground, and she yelped, her eyes flying open just as something large and green was thrust in between her and the incoming foulness. She stared as the shield in front of her expanded to twice the size it had been while it was hanging on Shell Boy’s back, completely protecting them from the deluge of filth spewing at them. Shell Boy grit his teeth—it looked to be a bit of a struggle, keeping the shield steady with the pressure of the garbage spray being pressed upon it, not to mention that it growing twice as big could not be easy on Shell Boy’s arm—but eventually, the torrent of trash halted. Ladybug relaxed, her shoulders slumping…only to have them seize up once again once a loud ‘CLANG’ reverberated through the air. Shell Boy’s eyes widened behind his goggles, staring at Ladybug in just as much surprise as she was aiming at him. Together, they carefully peeked over the edge of the shield…

Apparently, Poseidon had believed his trident would be enough to pierce the protection of Shell Boy’s shield. He was so very wrong—not only had the trident failed to pierce the hard casing of the shield…but the prongs had broken, shattering, it seemed, upon impact. Poseidon now stared at his shattered weapon, nothing but shock registering on his face. Shell Boy stared at him a moment…and then glanced over at Ladybug…who merely shrugged. Well…might as well take advantage of the situation, right?

Since she hadn’t spotted an akuma flitting around when Poseidon’s trident broke, it could only mean that the shell necklace he wore housed the akuma. Ladybug carefully reached over, snatching the necklace from the frozen akumatized victim. He did not so much as react as she started breaking shell by shell, searching for the akuma. As she worked, she heard the sound of metal withdrawing, and glanced over to find Shell Boy retracting his shield, sliding it back onto his back. His held was tilted, inspecting the akumatized victim…

Finally, he knelt down to look into Poseidon’s face.

“Hey, uh, dude? You okay?”

“…My trident has failed me,” Poseidon muttered. “My birthright…without my trident, I’m no king of the sea.”

“Well, the Seine can’t really be considered the sea either, man,” Shell Boy pointed out, not unkindly. “And you gotta admit…this isn’t exactly the way to go about shaming people into cleaning up the river.”

“How, then?” Poseidon grumbled, gripping his broken trident harder than ever. “I’ve already tried everything—protests, rallies, scheduled events…my voice is _never_ heard. I just thought, if I became king of the sea, no one would be able to ignore me…but what is a king of the sea without his trident…? Just an angry man shouting from the water.”

Poseidon sighed, his head bowed.

“It’s hopeless. The Seine will remain polluted forever. This is not something even The Butterfly can fix.”

Ladybug’s head snapped up again, her hand on the last shell. There it was again: ‘The Butterfly’. But who…?

“Who _is_ The Butterfly?” She asked, wanting answers to this riddle. But Poseidon shook his head sadly.

“I don’t know. And it matters not. I have failed. My beloved Seine…I have failed her.”

“Hey,” Shell Boy said softly, daring to pat the akumatized victim’s shoulder. “Just because you couldn’t bully people into cleaning up the Seine doesn’t mean action still can’t be taken.”

Poseidon snorted.

“I alone have screamed the loudest and fought the hardest. And even that wasn’t enough. What action will be taken after I’m gone?”

Shell Boy frowned. He glanced briefly at Ladybug, who just looked at him. Rare were the times when she could just sit down and talk about whatever it was these akumatized victims got bent out of shape about, without them fighting tooth and nail for their cause. The shattering of his trident seemed to really demoralize Poseidon, however…and she was just as at a loss for how to handle it as Shell Boy was, still clutching the last shell to her.

After a moment, a determined look crossed Shell Boy's features, and he clapped Poseidon on the shoulder.

“We’ll help,” he volunteered them both. He seemed to realize it, for he cringed and backtracked. “Uh…I mean, LB can do what she wants, but, I don’t mind helping. How about that? A superhero spokesperson for the Seine?”

Poseidon lifted his head, blinking owlishly at Shell Boy.

“You…would do that…?”

“Of course,” Shell Boy gave an easy-going smile that was…oddly familiar… “That’s what heroes do, right? We make the world a better place. And I may be a land turtle…but taking care of our water environment is important, too, right?”

Poseidon stared at Shell Boy some more. Ladybug watched as his lips began to curve upwards, threatening a smile—

He gave a sudden, shuddering gasp. Abruptly, his transformation broke, and he became a regular man—a man who apparently couldn’t swim. Ladybug lunged forward, trying to grab at one of his thrashing limbs, but it was like something sucked him under—his head disappeared underneath the surface of the Seine. Ladybug nearly dove in after him, but something dark flitting by caught her attention— _the_ _akuma._ It must have broken free of its possessed object without her notice! But she didn’t even break the remaining shell she was holding…what was going on?!

“Capture the akuma!” Shell Boy shouted at her. Ladybug felt a faint sting of annoyance of being told what to do by a rookie, but it was overridden almost immediately by panic.

“What about—”

“I’m on it, just get the akuma!” And, without hesitation, Shell Boy dove into the Seine. Her heart pounding in her throat, Ladybug captured and purified the akuma, the action taking little time because she had done it so many times before, which left her to fight to keep her composure as she waited at the edge of the Seine, wondering if she shouldn’t have attached her yo-yo to Shell Boy’s shield so she could reel him back in—

The surface of the Seine churned, and Shell Boy’s head broke the surface, letting out a puff of air, as if he had only gone under for a moment. The limp body under his arm made Ladybug’s panic meter ratchet up to eleven, and she sent out her yo-yo to him.

“Catch, Shell!”

Shell Boy grabbed the yo-yo, holding firmly as Ladybug helped reel him in. Once he was close enough, she helped haul him and the akumatized victim out of the Seine, the both of them hovering over said victim.

“Is he breathing?” Ladybug asked, and Shell Boy lowered his ear to the victim’s mouth. Something in his expression tightened, and he glanced up at Ladybug.

“No.” His tone was dark.

“CPR,” Ladybug announced, but even as she moved forward, Shell Boy was already on it—he lowered his mouth to the victim's, blowing in two puffs of air before locking his fingers together and starting chest compressions. Ladybug jittered, anxious, wishing there was something else that could be done—when on the tenth compression, the victim jerked, coughing up river water. Ladybug helped Shell Boy turn the victim onto his side, and he retched up a good part of the Seine before his breathing returned, ragged though it was. Ladybug helped him as he struggled to sit up, pushing sopping dark hair out of his face and blinking dark blue eyes.

“W-what…? What happened? Where—Ladybug?!”

“You’re all right,” Ladybug assured him, squeezing his shoulder. “Everything’s all right.”

The man grew paler the longer he looked at her.

“I…I was akumatized, wasn’t I? But I…I’m _against_ them! Why would I be—”

“Hawk Moth—The Butterfly—whoever they are,” Ladybug huffed, “they don’t care about your alignment, whether you’re for protecting akumatized victims, or against protecting them. The only thing they seem to want…is to spread chaos.”

Her eyes burned into the man, the man who was apparently a Chat Noir supporter.

“Do you understand now? Do you think any of this—you becoming akumatized and terrorizing the city—do you think this was a choice? Do you want your protester buddies to see you like this? Are you prepared for them to turn their back on you? Prepared for them to attack you, even, for something you had no control over?”

The man’s lips were white, and Shell Boy nudged Ladybug.

“Harsh, LB,” he muttered.

“Well, it’s true,” Ladybug defended herself, getting to her feet and frowning down at the man. “People who think like him need to learn—no one is safe with a supervillain like The Butterfly on the loose, so the last thing we should be doing is turning on each other.”

The man lowered his gaze, apparently unable to look at Ladybug. Shame rolled off him in waves, something she took satisfaction from. Tossing her yo-yo into the air, Ladybug called on her restorative powers to return Paris to its normal state before hooking an arm under the victim’s to help him to his feet.

“Come on,” she said in a much softer tone. “Let’s get you home—”

“Ladybug! Ladybug, wait up!”

“Oh boy,” Ladybug muttered as Alya came tearing up the street, her phone at the ready, as always. She drew up short, however, once she noticed the figure in green.

“Who’s this?” She wanted to know, aiming her phone's camera at Shell Boy. “A new superhero? What’s your name? Are you Ladybug’s new partner? What happened to Chat Noir? Is he gone for good?”

“Uhhhh,” Shell Boy stammered, regarding Alya with wide eyes. Ladybug sighed. Once again, she did not have time for this.

“How fast can you run?” She asked Shell Boy in an undertone as she slipped the victim’s arm across her shoulders, holding him securely as she sent out her yo-yo. Shell Boy blinked at her.

“Er, not very…” He gestured to his shield. “But I can fly.”

A turtle that could fly? Huh. That was pretty miraculous, in Ladybug’s book.

“Then do that,” she muttered to him, yanking on her yo-yo, the wire sending her skyward. Alya yelped, and Ladybug glanced back to see that Shell Boy had hopped onto his shield, which hovered, rather than flew, but it was good enough to speed him away from Alya, despite her attempts to chase after him.

“Wait! I never got your name! What’s your Miraculous? Who are you???”

“Just consider me the Guardian of the Seine! Don’t pollute!” Shell Boy called back to her with a salute, and Ladybug was forcibly reminded of Chat Noir and his flirting. She sighed before remembering she was currently responsible for a civilian, who was clinging to her for dear life, plainly terrified of heights.

“Where do you live?” She asked the man, and he fearfully whispered his address. Within a few minutes, Ladybug and Shell Boy were able to see him home safely, and Ladybug was satisfied to see his family hug him, grateful for his return. The way he looked back at her as he was ushered inside by his family made her hope that he, at least, had changed his mind about akumatized victims and whether or not they should be persecuted…

“So,” Said a sudden voice next to her, and Ladybug jumped; she had almost forgotten Shell Boy was there. “How’d I do for my first night out, LB?”

Ladybug gave him an appraising look.

“Not bad. For a rookie,” she acknowledged, turning to him with a smirk. “We still need something to call you, though…unless you decided to rip off the name of a ninja turtle after all?”

“I was thinking about that, actually…” Shell Boy smiled. “And I like Shell.”

Ladybug peered curiously at him.

“That’s it? Just…Shell? Not even Shell Man?”

“Nah. Shell’s cool.”

“How about Shelly?” Ladybug suggested innocently, only to have Shell Boy scowl at her.

“That’s a girl’s name.” He thought about it a little longer, idly fingering his bracelet for a moment…and then he snapped, pointing a finger gun at her. “ _Emerald_ Shell.”

“That’s jade,” Ladybug pointed out, tapping his bracelet. Shell shrugged.

“So what? Besides you and me, who’s gonna know the difference?” Shell struck a heroic pose, grinning cheekily. “The adventures of Ladybug, Chat Noir, and Emerald Shell. I like it.”

Chat Noir, huh…

Ladybug frowned as her Miraculous gave a beep.

“We should have a quick talk,” she said, searching out a suitable space. There was a high rooftop nearby that they could park themselves for a moment without drawing too much attention. It wasn’t the Eiffel Tower, but it would have to do. Besides, Ladybug would feel funny bringing Emerald Shell there…that was her and Chat Noir’s spot.

...Well, it used to be, anyway...

“Come on,” she said to Shell, swinging her way over to the rooftop, unable to help her glance back to make sure that he was following. And follow he did, all the way up to the roof. Ladybug sat down, inspecting the Seine from their vantage point. It really was a lovely river…that man had every right to be upset about its pollution. They should really do something…

Well, Shell had gotten the ball rolling, hadn’t he, with his announcement to Alya? No doubt that broadcast would be uploaded to the Ladyblog before the night was up.

“Nice night,” said Shell as he hopped off his shield/hover board, taking in the scenery around them. He sat down beside Ladybug with a grunt. “Can’t believe it’s almost Christmas, I’ve been so busy lately. Was kind of surprised to see an akuma pop up so close to the holidays, too—”

“I want you to know,” Ladybug began, cutting across his chatter, “that I’ll be getting in touch with Master Fu to verify everything you told me. If I find out you’ve been lying to me this whole time, I _will_ hunt you down, Shell.”

Shell raised his hands in surrender.

“Damn, LB, you’re scary,” he commented. “You’re almost as bad as my girlfriend.”

Ladybug frowned.

“I have to be careful,” she said, turning her gaze from him, onto the Seine once again. She was no longer soaked, thanks to her restorative powers, but it would be a miracle if Tikki didn’t get sick from their impromptu mid-winter river dip. “I’ve already gone through too much when it comes to other superheroes.”

“Oh…yeah, I guess so, huh…” Shell rubbed the back of his head, ruffling the green hood he wore. “What _is_ the deal with Chat Noir, anyway? He’s a bad guy now, right?”

“No,” Ladybug said forcefully, and hating herself for the immediate defense of her ex-partner. “He’s not…right, right now. But he’s not a bad guy. He’s just…” She closed her eyes. “I don’t know. Just let _me_ worry about him, all right?”

“If you say so,” Shell replied. Ladybug only let the quiet last up until her second beep from her Miraculous.

“This Pavone you mentioned earlier…have you met him?”

“Nah. Dude’s way private. I’ve only gotten, like, text messages from him. Which is weird, 'cause I never even gave him my number...but Master Fu said the number was legit when I showed him, so..." Shell shrugged. "Usually they're just reminders for me to lay low—I wasn’t supposed to reveal myself until it was absolutely necessary.” Shell grinned. “Kinda like an ace in the hole, or something. But Pavone said you needed help tonight, so…here I am.”

The grin faded, replaced by confusion.

“I’ve never seen an akuma just go back to normal like that before, though…what happened?”

Ladybug gave a shrug, though her frown was anything but easy-going.

“Your guess is as good as mine. I’ve never seen that happen before. The only thing I can guess is that The Butterfly or whoever dispelled the transformation because Poseidon wasn’t doing what he was supposed to be doing…whatever that was…”

“Can The Butterfly dude _do_ that?”

“I don’t know. It’s only a guess.”

Ladybug’s gaze went to the horizon once again, frowning in the distance. What the hell _had_ happened with the akumatized victim tonight? Was it indeed The Butterfly’s doing? Or…was it possible that Shell’s offer to help Poseidon—causing the erasure of negative feelings within the victim—was enough to expel the akuma on its own?

And what about this ‘Pavone’? Was he an ally? It would seem so, if he was actually working with Master Fu like Shell claimed…but who _was_ Pavone? And more importantly, who was The Butterfly? Who were all these people working behind the scenes, and why was Ladybug only finding out about them just now? What the hell was going on??

“Uh…LB?” Shell asked, intruding upon her thoughts once again. “Can you…keep a secret?”

Ladybug turned to give him a dry look.

“Well, I should hope so,” she said flatly, and Shell laughed in a nervous sort of way.

“Right, right. Well, uh, I just want some advice.” He fiddled with his bracelet, abruptly nervous. “That reporter girl from before…the truth is…she’s my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend…?

Shell was dating Alya?

No, that was impossible, Alya was with…with…

Ladybug froze. One more time, her mind cataloged the familiar things: the speech pattern, the characteristic gestures...those gold eyes that seemed so much wiser than the last time she'd seen them...

Well, damn. So much for statistics…

“……I see,” she made herself say through sheer force of will, though inside, her mind was rioting.

‘ _Nino?! Shell is NINO?! Are you_ kidding me, _Master Fu?! What the hell?!?_ ’

“You know, N—Shell, you shouldn’t go shouting about that. Admitting that to anyone could put Alya in danger,” Ladybug warned him severely. Shell ducked his head, nodding.

“I know, I know, just…I need some advice. You know how she is…” Ladybug froze again—holy shit, had _she_ given herself away as well?! “…She’s your biggest fan,” Shell ended up finishing, and Ladybug breathed easier again. “She tries to follow you everywhere.”

“Yes, I know.” Ladybug frowned, her Miraculous beeping once again. She didn’t have much time left here… “What do you need advice about?”

“Well, basically…I’m afraid I’m gonna fuck up somehow and she’s gonna find out who I am.” Shell gave a long, loud sigh. “And I don’t want her to be in that kind of position. It’s bad enough that she flings herself into danger at the first whiff of a story, taking off _years_ of my life, by the way, but if she found out she was dating an actual superhero? A superhero that knows _Ladybug_ , of all things?” Shell shook his head. “She will _lose her mind._ ”

Ladybug could see, in her mind’s eye, the feverish gleam in Alya’s gaze if she ever found out she had an in to Ladybug herself through Nino. Truly, she would stop at nothing until she managed to unmask Paris’ superhero—it was her biggest dream in life. And Ladybug would know, since said dream had been confessed to her over a late night in a bar, when exams were killing them both last year.

“Then just be careful, Shell,” she cautioned the man—her _best friend’s boyfriend!!!_ —sitting beside her. “Make sure she never finds out.”

“But how? I hate having to lie to her—I’ve been training this whole time with Master Fu, but I’ve been saying I’ve been working, so I’ve barely seen her at all this week…what if she pops by unannounced—she has a key to my place—and Wayzz is just chilling on the coffee table or something? Or what if I’m in the middle of transforming, and she walks in? Or—”

“Shelly,” Ladybug interrupted him, smothering a giggle at the scowl he threw her for the girlish nickname. “You’re overthinking, panicking about things that have, maybe, a fifty percent chance of happening.”

“More like eighty percent.” Shell huffed, his head in his hands. “You don’t know Alya like I know her.”

Ladybug almost made a bet with him…but then changed her mind at the last minute. Best not to tease him just now.

“I know it’s tough,” she assured him, resting a consoling hand on his shoulder. “Believe me, I know—I’ve been doing this for years. You’ve just got to find the balance between your personal life, and your superhero one. It’s tough to maintain at first…and I can’t promise you won’t be under some strain because of it, and I’m sorry for that. But this Pavone—” Whoever _he_ was... “—must have seen something in you that made him Choose you. So it’ll be hard…but you’ll manage. You’re part of the team now.”

Shell blinked at her.

“The team, huh? Not a minute ago, you were at my throat about lies I haven’t told.” He gave her a searching glance. “You know, you kind of remind me of a friend of mine…spitfire, just like you. I wouldn’t wanna piss her off any more than I’d wanna piss off Alya.”

Ladybug smiled.

“She sounds like an awesome friend,” she said, getting to her feet. “Well, time’s about up for me. I better head home before my transformation breaks. You too. Make sure no one follows you, all right? Especially not certain reporter girls.”

Shell sighed, tugging off his shield to use it as a hover board once again.

“I’ll do my best…god, I hope my best is good enough…”

“You’ll be fine,” Ladybug assured him with another pat to his shoulder and a wink. “I’ll be in touch.”

With those parting words, she swung away, her mind buzzing, as if there were ladybugs trapped in her skull as well.

 

* * *

 

“…caught on film, the new superhero, who has yet to be named, only calling himself ‘the Guardian of the Seine’, parted with a PSA about anti-pollution. Alya Cesaire, amateur reporter and moderator of the Ladyblog—”

“‘Amateur’? Alya’s not going to like that!” Tikki exclaimed around a mouthful of cookie. Marinette giggled, hugging one of her pillows to her as they watched the late night news broadcast.

“Yeah, well, Alya’s not gonna be happy about a lot of stuff for a while.” Marinette shook her head, staring at the video still of Emerald Shell saluting. “I _still_ can’t believe that it’s Nino! _Nino!_ If I had to choose someone from my friend group to bring into the chaos that is my superhero life…I would’ve chosen Alya. _She_ handles chaos like it’s nothing.”

Tikki giggled.

“Still…it’s not a _bad_ thing that it’s Nino, right? Now you have another friendly face to watch your back!”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s a comfort…considering Chat Noir seems like he’s MIA again.” Marinette huffed, clutching her pillow tighter. “Stupid, unreliable stray. First he disappears on me for _seven years_ , then he comes back all _wild,_ like he’d spent those years living in a _jungle_ , and _just_ when I think there’s hope for him after all—”

“Marinette,” Tikki cut through her Chosen’s ranting, a tiny hand touching Marinette’s knee as she turned towards her balcony doors. “Do you hear that?”

Marinette paused, frowning in confusion. Did she hear what?

She was just about to ask when, suddenly, she _did_ hear it: a soft, plinking sound. Like a tapping at her doors.

Marinette stared at the curtains pulled shut over her balcony doors.

That wasn’t what she thought it was, was it…?

Cautiously, because she wasn’t sure what to expect and wanted to be ready, Marinette edged her way over to the balcony doors, slipping a hand in between the curtains to peek out into the night.

Just as she peeked, a pebble came at her face. She yelped, but it plunked harmlessly against the glass, followed by another a second later…and then another…

Who the hell was throwing rocks at her window like she was in some teenage romance movie?

Perplexed, Marinette unlocked the doors, waiting until another rock flew before she dared to open them.

“Hold your fire, I’m coming out!” She called to whoever was down there tossing the rocks.

“Ah, the princess is in her tower after all,” answered a drawling voice, and Marinette felt her heart leap into her throat. She rushed forward to the balcony railing, finally spying the current bane of her existence down in the garden below. His cat eyes gleamed in the moonlight, and he sunk into a ridiculous bow once she laid eyes on him.

“C-Chat Noir?” Marinette stuttered, blinking down at the stray. “What’re you—”

“Hold on, I’ve been practicing this bit for ages,” he forestalled her, clearing his throat. “Give me a minute…ahem. ‘Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!’”

Marinette deadpanned him a look.

“No?” Chat questioned, pouting a tad. “No dark raven locks for me to climb up to visit you in your tower?”

“You know, that’s how she got pregnant,” Marinette quipped with a raise of her eyebrows. Chat grinned wildly.

“Not in the Disney version. Besides, I assure you that my intentions are pure, Princess,” he called up to her.

“Uh-huh,” Marinette drawled, parking her chin in a hand as she leaned an elbow on her balcony railing. “And what kind of cat with ‘pure intentions’ would be out skulking around a lady’s bedroom at night?”

“The kind of cat that knocks first instead of just inviting himself in?” He suggested. Marinette pursed her lips. Well…she supposed he did have a point…and it wasn’t like she couldn’t just toss him if he tried anything…

“…All right,” she allowed, straightening. “Come on up.”

His grin flashing once again, Chat Noir extended his staff, striking a pose before he slid off and perched himself on the railing of Marinette’s balcony. Glancing around, he abruptly pouted.

“You know…I really should’ve gone with the balcony dialogue from Romeo and Juliet instead,” he said, frowning his displeasure. “It would’ve been more fitting.”

Marinette put all the implications of such a dialogue to the side, fixing Chat with a searching stare.

“Where have you been?” She demanded point blank, drawing Chat’s eyes to her. “Ladybug’s been having to deal with akuma attacks all on her own, you know.”

“Ah…” Chat glanced away, rubbing the back of his head. “Well…yeah. I’m, uh…taking a break from crime fighting, for right now.”

This made Marinette scowl.

“Nice of you to tell m—her,” she corrected herself at the last minute, inwardly cringing. He didn’t hear that, right…?

Luckily for her, Chat was too busy looking guilty to notice her slip…or so she thought, at least, until he turned his attention back to her, a curious gleam in his eyes.

“How did you know that I haven’t told her?”

‘ _Think fast, think fast!_ ’

“ _You_ just told me,” she replied, smirking in a superior fashion when Chat cringed, his shoulders hunching. “Bad Chat. You’re lucky I don’t have a spray bottle in my hand right now.”

Chat gave a soft hiss, and Marinette, despite her annoyance with him, giggled. A moment later, however, she sobered.

“So why are you coming to see me when you should be telling Ladybug what’s up?”

Chat gave a shrug, not quite meeting her eyes.

“I wanted to see you,” he said simply. Marinette blinked at him.

“O…kay…?” She tilted her head at him. “About what, exactly?”

Chat smiled a smile that was smaller than usual. It was…soft, on him. Charming.

Marinette felt rather warm all of a sudden.

“Nothing in _purr_ ticular,” he punned, and Marinette had to resist the urge to slam her face into her palm. This punny cat bastard…

“So! I hear tell through the grapevine that you’re still a Chat fan,” Chat Noir drawled as Marinette leaned her crossed arms on her balcony railing, gazing up at the moon. Though warmth was just a few steps away in her room, it was chilly out here, and she shivered. From the corner of her eye, she saw Chat’s ears droop slightly.

“I don’t know who you’ve been talking to,” Marinette said loftily, sliding him a glance. “After all, I can’t be a fan of a hero who leaves his partner in the lurch.”

Chat glanced away from her, looking ashamed. Good.

“I don’t think she really needs me, Princess,” he said, letting a leg dangle as he crossed his ankle over his knee, clawed hands resting on the railing. “She’s been handling things just fine on her own.”

Marinette scowled at him.

“If it weren’t for that turtle-themed hero tonight, she would have _drowned_ ,” she snapped at him, unconcerned for the widening of his eyes as surprise crossed his features. “She could’ve died _,_ Chat! You think just because she _can_ do it by herself that she _wants_ to? Open your eyes, you damn—”

‘— _Stray!_ ’ Marinette finished in her head, abruptly aware of the fact that she was letting her anger carry her away. She huffed instead of finishing her sentence out loud, crossing her arms and looking resolutely away from Chat, as if she needed to express, through both words and actions, that she was _most_ unhappy with him right now. The silence of the night settled in, and Marinette closed her eyes, focused on getting her breathing under control. The chilly night helped her cool down fast, and she let out a sigh, gazing up into the beautiful night sky, where the moon shone brightly, stealing the show from the stars. Was that selfish of the moon, to shine as brightly as she could while obscuring those who shared the night with her? Or would it be more selfish to keep her glow to herself, hidden away from the world?

But maybe it was a moot point, Marinette supposed: the light was borrowed, anyway. Without the generosity of the sun…where would the moon be?

“…She doesn’t have to do it alone anymore,” came Chat’s soft voice after a moment. Marinette glanced over, finding his gaze focused on the television in her room, where the newscast was still showing images of Emerald Shell. “Seems like another Miraculous holder has sprung into action. As long as there’s someone there to watch her back when she jumps into danger…she’ll be fine, right?”

That was _so_ not the point. Marinette huffed again, her arms tightly crossed as she turned to glare fully at Chat Noir.

“And what about you?”

Chat lifted and dropped a shoulder, his gaze still on the T.V.

“Like I said, as long as she has someone, she’ll be fine without me. And I suppose I’ll…retire again.” Chat slid a smile Marinette’s way that didn’t reach his eyes. It was strange on him, he who was usually so free with his feelings… “After all, what’s Chat Noir without Ladybug?”

Déjà vu.

“You have that backwards,” Marinette said firmly, though her voice was soft. Chat’s smile became a bit more genuine.

“You think so?”

“I do,” Marinette insisted, turning to rest her back against her balcony railing. “Ladybug is amazing, don’t get me wrong. But she’s also impulsive—she rushes into decisions without thinking them through first, and her feelings get in the way on occasion. She needs a partner to keep her in check, and watch her back when she inevitably gets herself into trouble…”

Marinette looked up, meeting Chat Noir’s eyes with a serious look.

“…Without Chat Noir, Ladybug is unbalanced.”

Chat stared at her for a long moment. Marinette held his gaze, watching his pupils—they were being weird, growing larger for no reason at all. Marinette, having spent zero time around actual cats, was flummoxed. What was with his eyes?

Finally, Chat looked away first, letting out a laugh.

“I can’t decide if you’re underestimating Ladybug…or overestimating me,” he said, chuckling under his breath. Marinette rolled her eyes with a shrug.

“Neither. I’m right,” she insisted, bumping his shoulder with hers before she moved away from the railing, turning to stand in front of him. “And since you have so much free time to come visit me in the dead of night—and I’m not encouraging this behavior, by the way—you certainly have enough time to let Ladybug know that you’re taking a break. She deserves to know, even if you’re not partners anymore.”

“I suppose…” With a sigh, Chat stood up, drawing himself up to his full height as he stood on her balcony railing. He was much too tall, Marinette noted, and she scowled up at him as he dared to give her a cheeky grin. “Well, I suppose I should leave now, too. God knows what your neighbors would think if they saw me slinking away into the night at a later hour…”

“Oh, just go,” Marinette huffed, resisting the urge to just shove him off the railing herself. He called upon the powers of his baton once again, extending it so that it reached the ground before he climbed onto it, still grinning at Marinette.

“See you again, Princess,” he bade. Marinette moved forward, still scowling at him.

“You’d better not make a habit of this,” she warned him, reaching out to poke his nose. He wrinkled and rubbed at it, giving her an odd look. “I’m not that kind of girl, Chat.”

“But of course, Princess. I’ll never be anything but a perfect gentleman towards you. Cat’s honor,” he promised, lifting the clawed hand with his ring on it in a salute. Marinette rolled her eyes again…but she smiled.

“Good night, Chat,” she bade him. He paused for a second…and then reached out to her, a question in his eyes. Recognizing it, Marinette let her hand slip into his, and she caught his grin before he pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

“Good night, Princess,” he returned, giving a wink before he descended down to the ground. Marinette watched as he bounded into the darkness, and then stood staring at the spot where he’d disappeared for a while before she remembered she was cold, and hurried back inside.

Tikki popped out from her hiding place as Marinette shut and locked the doors, drawing the curtains closed.

“A hero hiatus, huh?” She questioned, and Marinette huffed as she flopped down on her bed. “Good thing he came to visit you, or else we might not have known otherwise.”

“Stupid, lazy cat,” Marinette grumbled, staring down at the hand that Chat had kissed. He was complicating so many things in Marinette’s life…why couldn’t working with him be easy, like it used to be?

Her phone gave a sudden chime. Marinette glanced over, grabbing the device and spotting Alya’s name.

“Probably texting to brag about her footage,” Marinette reasoned out loud, unlocking her phone and opening the text.

Alya’s text, however, turned out to have nothing to do with her new scoop whatsoever.

_Alya: Hey, girl! So since your “not” boyfriend is picking you up for your “not” date tomorrow at six, I thought I’d swing by around four, help you primp and get ready? It may not be a date, but I will not rest until you look absolutely fabulous. What do you say?_

Marinette gave a sigh. Looked like her day tomorrow was going to be a little bit busier than she’d originally planned…

Oh well. Such was life when you led two of them at the same time.

**Marinette: Sure, sounds great~ Thanks in advance; best friend ever. :)**

_Alya: Damn right. I’ll be seeing you off as well, of course…making sure Mr. Agreste knows that I know all the vital points of a person’s veins, including the knowledge of_ which _particular veins would be the most painful to bleed out from…_

**Marinette: Alya…**

_Alya: I’m just saying! ;D I’ll try and rope Nino into a ‘father with a shotgun’ shtick…assuming he doesn’t have to WORK tomorrow…_

Oh, right.

Marinette pursed her lips, glancing over at her drawing tablet. There was a thing she was thinking about doing to let Nino know he wasn’t alone in this…but she still wasn’t sure how wise it was to reveal herself, despite knowing that Emerald Shell was a friend in more ways than one. But wasn’t it unfair, to hold all the cards and leave Nino in the dark?

“What do you think, Tikki?” Marinette asked, crossing her legs as she glanced down at her kwami. “Should I reveal myself to Nino?”

Tikki stared up at her for a moment, her big, indigo eyes thoughtful.

“Normally, I’d advise you to ask Master Fu, first,” she admitted, and then her tiny features slipped into a pout. “But since it seems like we’ve been left out of several loops lately—”

“We can make this decision on our own,” Marinette finished for her kwami, nodding her head determinedly. “All right, then it’s settled. Scooch over a second, I need my drawing tablet…”

 

* * *

 

“Oh! Marinette, hi!”

Marinette glanced up, grinning automatically at the sight of Kira as she came bounding forward, bundled up in preparation for the cold outside, sparkly pink eyepatch still in place.

“Hi, Kira,” she greeted, gently rubbing the child’s back as Kira flung her arms around Marinette’s legs. “Going out?”

“Yeah! Shopping with _Baa-chan,_ ” Kira announced, gesturing to the elderly woman behind her, who smiled and nodded at Marinette. “We’re gonna go get groceries!”

“Sounds like fun,” Marinette enthused, sidestepping around the neighbors. “Don’t let me hold you up—I’ve got to see Nino about something.”

“Oh, okay.”

Marinette became confused as Kira moved to the door with her, and then amused when the child pounded on said door with her small, energetic fists.

“NINOOOO!!! YOUR FRIEND IS HERE TO SEE YOU!!!”

There was the sound of something clattering inside, and a startled yelp.

“Jeez, kid, all right! No need to shout it to the world…”

Marinette giggled, and Kira gave her a toothy smile before leaving with her grandmother for the grocery store. Marinette waited patiently outside the door, hearing a lot of shuffling happening within Nino’s apartment. What was he doing?

“Nino?” She called, and Nino gave another yelp. “Everything okay in there?”

“Fine!” He called back, his voice a little too high to be his natural pitch. “J-just a sec, ‘Nette! …Ouch! Damn it…”

Marinette raised an eyebrow.

“Is this a bad time?”

“No, no! Just give me…one sec…aha!”

There was the sudden sound of something sliding open, then closed, and then a rattling just beyond the door. Finally, Nino was revealed, looking harried underneath that too-bright smile he wore, his hair disheveled, face unshaven. He looked a hot mess.

Marinette looked down, and then bit back a snort: he was wearing a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle t-shirt with matching pajama bottoms.

He wasn’t bothering to try and hide much, was he?

“Hi,” she greeted him with a grin. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” Nino replied, glancing around her for some reason as he stepped back, allowing her entrance. “Sorry, my place is kind of a mess right now…uh, Alya’s not with you…?”

“No,” Marinette answered, quick eyes scanning the messy living room as she spoke. Hmm…no sign of Wayzz. Was all that clattering around Nino was doing an attempt to hide the kwami from prying eyes…? “It’s just me.” She turned on her heel to face Nino as he closed the door, returning his curious look with a quirked brow. “Is that okay?”

“Uh, I guess?” Nino leaned back against the door, giving Marinette a searching look. He clearly didn’t understand why she had come to see him without Alya in tow…Marinette bit her lip to keep from smirking at the shock he was about to receive. “So…what’s up?”

“I finished a mock-up for your CD,” Marinette announced proudly, and Nino straightened up in surprise.

“You-you did? Wow! Thanks, ‘Nette! But, I, uh…I didn’t give you anything to work with…”

“I know,” Marinette assured him, reaching into her bag for her creation, “but I just got hit with a jolt of inspiration last night, and I wanted to show you before I got busy today…”

With a smile, she whipped out the mock-up CD cover, smiling at the image of Emerald Shell, striking a heroic pose, his shield gleaming in the sunlight. It was probably one of her better CD creations, second place only to the one she’d designed for Jagged Stone…it was too bad this one would never see the light of day. Oh well.

“Here,” she said, presenting the CD case for Nino to take with a flourish. “What do you think?”

Nino took the case, got a good look at the cover…and froze. Marinette waited for him to thaw, pressing her lips together to keep from outright laughing, though she could practically see the gears in Nino’s mind whirring, trying to figure out whether he should panic or play it cool.

After a moment, he seemed to settle for a happy medium.

“This is…this is, uh…” Nino glanced up over his glasses at Marinette, searching her face. “T-this is that new…new superhero. That guy that showed up last night, uh…what’s his name…?”

“Emerald Shell,” Marinette supplied, allowing herself to smirk just a little as Nino visibly began to sweat. “Cool, huh?”

“Y-yeah, c-cool,” he stuttered, rubbing the back of his head and ruffling his dark hair. “B-but I don’t really know why…you chose _him_ for my CD cover…heh heh…”

Oh, this was really too funny. Marinette felt a little bad for being so mean, though, so she decided to throw him a bone—

“Wait,” Nino began suddenly, holding a hand up and staring at Marinette. “…The guy just made his superhero debut last night, and no reporter knows his name, yet…” His golden eyes began to narrow behind his glasses. “…How do you know his name, Marinette…?”

Slowly, Marinette allowed herself to smile.

“Well, he told me,” she said casually, giving a wink. “I helped him out with it, actually—‘Shell Boy’ was apparently too juvenile for him…but the ‘shell’ part seemed to stick after a while.”

Nino stared, his mouth gaping open. He tried to close it a couple times, only for it to open again a moment later, lifting a trembling finger and pointing at her, apparently speechless.

“I thought you were a turtle, not a fish,” Marinette teased him, her grin widening.

“You’re…you’re…” Nino stammered, still staring at her as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. “You’re…you’re _not._ You _can’t_ be…can you? Are you? Are you, Marinette?!”

“Am I what?” Marinette teased him, grinning wider than ever. Nino threw up his hands in frustration.

“You know what I mean! You, you’re…you’re—!!”

It was at that moment that Tikki chose to reveal herself: she popped out of Marinette’s muffler, smiling sweetly.

“Ladybug?” She suggested innocently.

“WAUGH!!” Nino screamed, jumping so violently that he rammed himself into the door behind him, immediately wincing and cursing vehemently. “Shit, _ow,_ what the _fuck,_ Marinette?!”

“Sorry!” Marinette apologized, moving closer as Nino rubbed the back of his head, drawing his hand forward to inspect the damage. No blood. That was good. “You okay? Need some ice?”

“I’ll live,” Nino grunted, still wincing and rubbing the back of his head. “That’ll probably be a lump within a couple hours, though…”

“I’m sorry, Nino,” Tikki apologized, flitting out of Marinette’s muffler to greet him properly. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

Marinette wasn’t sure if Nino had taken in anything Tikki said—he was too busy staring down at her kwami in shock. Tikki, however, merely took it in stride. Not that Marinette was surprised—she had tried to trap the kwami in a glass the first time _she_ met her…

“Nino, this is Tikki,” Marinette introduced them, smiling as Tikki flew back to her, snuggling against her cheek. “She’s my kwami.”

“…Yeah, I see that,” Nino finally replied, still wide-eyed and staring at Tikki for a moment, before his gaze abruptly switched to Marinette. “…So it’s true. You’re…you’re _Ladybug._ ”

Marinette smiled. Well, Nino wasn’t the first person she would have imagined discovering her secret—in fact, she had bet it all on Alya, and she now owed Tikki a large box of gourmet cookies—but a part of her had to admit that it felt good to be able to share this part of her life with someone else who was in the same position as her, a close friend, no less.

“I’m Ladybug,” she admitted, out of costume, for the very first time. Nino stared at her a moment longer…and then his breath left him in a whoosh, and he sank forward, his hands on his knees.

“I’m a superhero,” he muttered to himself, “and I’m friends with _Ladybug_. Alya is going to _kill_ me.”

Marinette laughed out loud at this.

“Not if we don’t tell her,” she reminded him with a shake of her head. “I know such a task seems daunting— _believe_ me, I know. But I’ve been doing it for years.”

“That’s right!” Nino abruptly realized, straightening up to resume his gawking at Marinette. “You’ve been doing this since you were _fourteen!_ Oh god, Marinette, you _gotta_ help me, I’m so afraid of screwing this up, and if Alya finds out on her own and finds out that I’ve been keeping such a big secret from her, she’s gonna—”

“Whoa,” Marinette said; it was her turn to hold up a hand, halting Nino’s babble. “First of all, Nino, you have to calm down. Like I told you last night, it’s all about being careful.”

“Oh my god, it was _you_ snarling at me last night!” Nino yelped, his eyes growing impossibly wider. “Did you  _have_ to be all…” To illustrate his point, he warped his hands into claws and flexed them, baring his teeth. Marinette laughed, feeling just a shade guilty.

“Again, like I told you last night—I’ve had it rough with other superheroes before.”

“Oh, right.” Nino frowned. “Does this mean you know who Chat Noir is?”

“No.” Marinette frowned at the memory of the unreliable rogue cat. “You’re the one of the only two people who knows my secret identity, Nino, Master Fu being the other. And it has to stay that way, you understand? _We_ can trust each other, but to tell other people—”

“I know, I know, bad idea, Wayzz told me,” Nino said, turning to the direction of his kitchen area. “You can come out now, dude!”

To Marinette’s immense relief, the green turtle kwami whizzed out of one of the kitchen drawers, smiling serenely at her.

“Hello again, Marinette,” he greeted, and Marinette sighed, reaching over to stroke his head.

“Wayzz, thank _goodness,_ I’ve been so _worried_ ,” she sighed, letting him and Tikki rest in between her cupped hands. “Where have you _been?_ ”

“Safe,” Wayzz replied in that cryptic way that reminded Marinette irresistibly of Master Fu. “No need to worry anymore—my new master has been taking very good care of me.”

Nino’s face grew ruddy, and he rubbed the back of his head.

“Told you, just ‘Nino’ is fine, dude,” he reminded the kwami. “I don’t know about this whole ‘Master’ business…”

“Apologies, Master,” Wayzz replied, and Nino sighed.

“We’re working on it,” he told Marinette sheepishly, and she grinned.

“All right, pull on a coat, we’ve got to go,” she announced, ushering both kwamis into her muffler. Nino blinked at her, nonplussed.

“Huh?”

“I’ve arranged a meeting with Master Fu,” Marinette informed him, making sure her snow hat was on straight. “I don’t want to be in the dark about anything anymore. I’m _Ladybug_ , for god’s sake—a new superhero is something I should _know_ about. So we’re gonna have a chat with him.”

“It’s Christmas Eve, ‘Nette,” Nino pointed out, moving to the side as Marinette shooed him away from the door, throwing it open. “Can’t we let the old man rest…?”

“All he’s been doing is resting,” Marinette asserted, turning to frown at Nino. “Too much has been happening for me to put off a visit with him any longer. We all have a lot to discuss, so let’s go.”

Nino took one look at the stubborn set of her jaw before he sighed.

“All right…but let me change out of my pjs first.”

“Hurry up,” Marinette said, and she waited out in the hall of the second floor of Nino’s apartment, tapping her foot impatiently until he reappeared, tying a black scarf closed around his neck and pulling an old baseball cap over his head.

“That can’t be warm.”

“No, but it’s comfortable. Makes me feel a bit more like myself,” Nino explained. As he locked up and they trooped down the staircase, he lowered his voice. “Running around in a turtle suit all night kind of threw me off-balance. It’s stupid, but wearing something that’s…well, _me_ …makes me feel a little more grounded. Like I’m not going crazy or dreaming, you know?”

…Huh. Actually, that made a lot of sense. Back when Marinette first became Ladybug, she would spend an hour after every mission in front of the mirror, inspecting her face. Same bright blue eyes, same pointed nose, same pink lips, same freckles dusted across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

It was still her…but it _wasn’t_ her at the same time.

She was something else.

Something _more._

And it took her a while to get used to that fact…so she knew exactly how Nino felt.

“I get it,” she assured him with a smile as they stepped out into the winter sunlight. “This superhero thing takes some getting used to.”

“No kidding.” Nino shook his head, following after Marinette as she set off at a brisk walk, her car parked a ways down the street. “Still can’t believe you’ve been doing this since you were fourteen…suddenly, all your random disappearances make a lot more sense.”

“So do yours,” Marinette replied with a grin. “Alya’s been irritated by your absence this week.”

“I know…” Nino huffed, rubbing the back of his head. “I hate having to lie to her.”

Marinette reached over, patting his arm.

“I know it’s hard. But it’s better than her knowing what’s happening. She may be pissed and in the dark…but at least she’s safe.”

“Relatively speaking,” Nino grumbled with a frown. “She’ll stop at nothing to be in the thick of things when Ladybug’s out and about…hey, you know, I can blame _you_ for all this, now!”

“Look, no one’s more upset than I am when Alya’s in danger,” Marinette told Nino point blank, scowling up at him. “If I could, I’d tie her to a tree until the fight’s over, just so I know she’s safe.”

“You mean like how you tied up Chat Noir when you were fighting Trinket?”

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t use my yo-yo…that kind of put me in a tight spot afterwards—”

“Yeah, which was why I untied him and sent him after you. God, you’re worse than _Alya,_ ‘Nette!”

Marinette skidded to a halt, her hands on her hips as she glared at Nino in shock and outrage.

“Wait a minute! _You_ untied Chat Noir?!”

“I had to!” Nino protested, looking equal parts guilty and defiant, his hands clenching at his sides. “ _Kira_ was Trinket! There was nothing I could do for her, but I knew _you_ could help her, but not without your yo-yo!”

Marinette scowled. As much as she wanted to be annoyed with Nino right now…if it weren’t for him, Marinette would have been transformed into an actual lucky charm…if it weren’t for him, Chat Noir, and one other person…another mystery…

“You know what, we don’t have time for this,” she huffed, turning and resuming her walk, pressing a button on her car keychain to unlock it; it chirped at her, lights flashing. “There’s a lot I have to ask Master Fu before Alya comes over to help me get ready for tonight, the first question being who the hell Pavone is supposed to be—”

“Oh, well I actually learned something on that front,” Nino suddenly announced, sliding into the passenger side of Marinette’s car. She blinked at him with wide eyes.

“You did?”

“Yeah. I was out shopping this morning with Adrien—he was looking for a corsage for you before I talked him out of it, reminding him that he wasn’t taking you to fucking _prom_.” Nino rolled his eyes. “Dude’s so cheesy. Why the hell did I decide to rekindle our friendship?”

Marinette carefully filed that information away for now so she could tease Adrien about it later that night.

“Go on,” she pressed Nino.

“Oh, right. Anyway, I remembered the name as we were leaving, and since Adrien lived in Italy for seven years, I figured he had to have picked up _some_ Italian, right? So I asked him, and he told me.”

Marinette carefully backed into the road, easing into traffic. As she drove, she threw a brief glance Nino’s way.

“So? What does ‘Pavone’ mean?”

Abruptly, Marinette was struck with the oddest feeling that she already knew the answer…

Nino’s voice confirmed the sudden suspicion:

“According to Adrien, it means ‘peacock’.”

Peacock.

The mysterious ‘Pavone’, Master Fu’s supposed confidant and the person who Chose Nino, creating Emerald Shell…was named ‘Peacock’ in Italian.

The plot thickened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Dire music plays in the background*
> 
> Emerald Shell's design was borrowed from tumblr users thelastpilot and turning-the-tides. I made minor tweaks to his description here, but he's still the brain-child of thelastpilot and turning-the-tides. Thanks for letting me borrow the idea, Pilot! <3
> 
> So, little announcement: I'm on summer break right now. Which means that BTU will not be updated as much as it usually is. While I probably won't put it on a month-long hiatus, just because my ideas are just BURSTING out of my brain, I can safely say that it'll take me longer than usual to update.
> 
> Just be patient. I promise I'm still around, just enjoying my break. :P
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter! Next chapter, we'll follow Cinderella--I mean Marinette--to the Winter Ball with Adrien. It'll be Christmas-themed, so there's gonna be a lot of festive cheer in the next chapter~ What's the worst that could happen?
> 
> :D
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	14. Duty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA! MADE IT!
> 
> ...Well, not over here. It's already the 26th, but it's still the 25th for a couple more hours for most of you, so Merry Christmas in July!!!
> 
> *Sighs* And I'm sorry: once again, the chapter ran over, so the actual ball is not in this chapter, because, again, too much going on, I had to divide it.
> 
> The next chapter's almost done, though, and I'm not doing much today, so if I can swing it, I'll be posting another chapter today. Look forward to it~
> 
> For now, we have Master Fu, pho, and Adrien Agreste's jaw on the ground. XD
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

Nino gave a whistle as soon as he stepped out of Marinette’s car.

“Wow…this is different,” he remarked, glancing around at the sudden Chinese street signs. The air smelled of spice, and lots of people of Asian descent milled about, stopping at shop windows to inspect the wares or jabbering away to friends in rapid Cantonese.

“Is it?” Marinette questioned, giving him a curious look as she shut her car door. “Haven’t you been here training with Master Fu?”

“Nah, I always met him in busy cafes when I had questions, and then in abandoned parks late at night so he could teach me the ways of my Miraculous. I’ve never been around here before…yo, check it out, even that McDonald’s over there is Chinese!”

Marinette snorted as she locked her car.

“Well, this _is_ _Quartier Chinois_. What were you expecting?”

“What’s that say?” Nino asked, pointing to a nearby shop with spices in the window, the name written in Vietnamese. Marinette frowned at him.

“Just because I’m part Chinese doesn’t mean I can read things here. You’d be better off asking Adrien.”

“Oh yeah. Why didn’t we bring him?”

Marinette raised her eyebrows at him, and Nino blinked.

“Oh, right.” He rubbed the back of his head as he followed Marinette into the street, side-stepping the Chinese-French citizens who eyed him as he passed by. “So, uh, where are we going?”

“We’re meeting Master Fu in a pho noodles bar for lunch.” Marinette glanced down at her phone, checking her GPS. “It’s about a five minute walk from here.”

“Mmm. That sounds good. Wayzz loves noodles.”

Ah, then perhaps that was why Master Fu had chosen this particular meeting place. Hmm…how did he feel about having his kwami passed on to someone else, after so many years spent together? Why had he suddenly allowed another to be Chosen in his place?

‘ _Patience,_ ’ Marinette reminded herself. All of her questions would hopefully be answered soon enough…

They arrived at the pho place soon enough, and she and Nino ducked inside after letting an elderly couple through first. As Nino took in the Chinese-style décor, Marinette scanned the booths for Master Fu. He was nowhere in sight, however, and that made her frown. She was sure this was the correct restaurant, and she and Nino had arrived on time…was Master Fu just running late?

“Excuse me…you are Marinette?”

Marinette turned, finding a waiter at her side.

“Yes?” She confirmed cautiously. The waiter nodded.

“Mr. Fu is waiting. Please follow me.”

Nino glanced at her, and she gave a shrug before following at the waiter’s behest. He led her and Nino to the back of the restaurant and down a side hallway, where a set of private rooms were set aside for large parties. He motioned them to the farthest room down the hall, and bowed his exit after sliding the door open, revealing a large room with a lunch table already set up in the middle. Master Fu sat at the head of the table, seated on a cushion on the floor, calmly sipping tea.

“Yo, Master Fu!” Nino greeted without hesitation, stepping into the room after removing his shoes. Marinette paused at the door, however, staring at Master Fu.

He was different. There appeared to be more lines on his face than Marinette remembered, and more salt than pepper in his hair since the last time she saw him. It was like he aged about twenty years while she wasn’t looking, and the sudden change unnerved her. What happened to him?

“Ah, good afternoon, Nino,” Master Fu greeted, smiling serenely as Nino took a seat on his left. His dark eyes found Marinette next, who abruptly realized she was staring, and then hastened inside, kicking off her boots and sliding the door shut behind her. “Ladybug. I’m happy to see that you’re well.”

“You too,” she mumbled, not quite able to meet his gaze as she sank down onto the cushion on his right. There was an awkward pause.

“Tea?” Master Fu offered, and both Nino and Marinette accepted some. After a moment, Tikki and Wayzz escaped from Marinette’s muffler as she unwound it from her neck, shedding her coat as well, Nino doing the same.

“Hello, Master Fu,” Tikki greeted, her tone pleasant as always, though Marinette knew that he kwami was not exactly happy with the elder at the moment, either. Wayzz said nothing, merely nodding in the direction of his old master before he joined Nino’s side of the table, Nino plucking a bean sprout from his bowl of pho and offering it to the turtle kwami. Marinette watched Wayzz snack on the bean sprout, her gaze switching to Master Fu, who still watched the kwami fondly. It seemed a little awkward between them…or was Marinette just reading too much into it?

“Good afternoon, Tikki. I understand that you and Ladybug have a few questions for me.”

“Yes,” Marinette said firmly; after a sip of strong tea, she regained her nerve, and she set the cup down, ignoring the bowl of pho in front of her for now, though the smell was awfully tempting. “You’ve been keeping me in the dark about a few things, Master Fu.”

She glanced pointedly across the table at Nino, who had his mouth full of pho, and could not offer anything in anyone’s defense.

Not that he needed to; Master Fu turned to Marinette willingly enough, twisting a finger around his beard, which had grown a little longer and turned completely white, she couldn’t help but notice.

“There is a reason for that, Ladybug.”

“Explain then. Please,” she tacked on, after realizing her tone was a bit too rude to be allowed. Keeping things from her or not, Master Fu was still her mentor, and he ought to be treated with the same respect as always.

Master Fu did not seem ruffled by her attitude at all. He merely studied her, still stroking his beard.

“Despite Chat Noir’s wavering, you seemed to be handling things just fine on your own,” he explained. Unable to help it, Marinette scowled. How many times did she have to go through this? Just because she _could_ deal with The Butterfly on her own didn’t mean that she _wanted_ to! It was her _job_ to seem unruffled as Ladybug, but didn’t Master Fu or Chat Noir know how to see through her appearances yet?

“However,” Master Fu continued, forestalling any complaining Marinette was about to engage in on the subject, “I knew that you would not remain complacent with the situation. And so, I enlisted an…acquaintance, of sorts, for help.”

“Pavone,” Marinette named the acquaintance, and Master Fu smiled.

“Well, it seems you are more informed on the subject than I thought.”

“He’s the Peacock Miraculous holder,” she added.

Master Fu nodded.

“That he is.”

“He helped me when I was fighting Trinket.”

From out of her bag, Marinette withdrew the peacock feather that had been left as the only evidence of Pavone’s involvement in her superhero life. She held it up, and Master Fu inspected it, still stroking his beard.

“Yes, that is one of Pavone’s feathers. Remarkable—he usually does not like to be seen. For the Peacock Miraculous holder…he is very reserved.”

Marinette lowered the feather, scowling.

“You never told me about him,” she accused Master Fu. “He’s been helping me all this time, but you never said anything. Why?”

Master Fu lowered his hand from his beard, folding his hands on the table in front of him as he regarded Marinette with his ancient eyes.

“It was not my place to reveal him to you, Ladybug,” he said simply. “Pavone chooses to work independently. And so he does.”

“But he’s a Miraculous holder too, isn’t he?” Nino joined the conversation after he swallowed an enormous mouthful of pho. “Why wouldn’t he join us?”

Master Fu only shrugged.

“It is his way,” he said mysteriously. Which only served to frustrate Marinette even more.

“Fine, so he likes to work alone, I get it. What I _don’t_ get is how he got his hands on the Turtle Miraculous! We thought it was stolen! It was the only thing that was missing from your massage parlor after you were attacked!”

Nino choked on his tea.

“A-attacked?!” He squawked, straightening his glasses as they attempted to slip down his nose. “Master Fu, you were—”

“I am fine,” Master Fu assured the both of them, his tone firm. “And while I was indeed attacked…it turned out that Wayzz had not gotten far before you intervened, Ladybug.”

That revelation brought Marinette up short, putting her frustration on the backburner as her confusion grew.

“What? But I didn’t—”

“You were focused on me at the time, Ladybug,” Master Fu reminded her gently. “Therefore, there was no way you would have looked for Wayzz properly before you left with me in the ambulance. Wayzz, it transpired, had been hidden under my coffee table, out of sight.”

Marinette gaped at the old master.

Was he seriously telling her that, all this time she’d been worried about Wayzz, he was just out of sight under the table?!

“But when I came back to the massage parlor, it was nearly destroyed!”

“What the hell happened?” Nino asked, aghast.

“Something—someone—tore it apart looking for the remaining Miraculous,” Marinette quickly informed him, ignoring his gaping in favor of focusing on Master Fu once again. “There was no way Wayzz could’ve been hidden in that mess. Whatever tore the place apart would’ve found him, or _I_ would have!”

“Ah,” said Master Fu, holding up a finger, “but Pavone managed to find him before you, Ladybug.”

Again, Marinette was forced to a halt in her thought process, staring at Master Fu.

But…that was impossible, wasn’t it? If Pavone had stopped by after she and Master Fu had headed off to the hospital, surely he would’ve run into whoever had destroyed Master Fu’s massage parlor looking for the Miraculous, right?

And speaking of who that particular villain was…

“Wayzz,” Marinette called, turning immediately to the turtle kwami, “did you see who attacked Master Fu in the first place?”

Wayzz lowered the scrap of lettuce Nino had just handed him, his tiny features warped into a thoughtful frown.

“It was not so much ‘who’ as it was ‘what’,” he answered. “It was some…thing. A shadow.”

Marinette blinked. A shadow?

“A shadow of what?”

“Nothing distinguishable. I only saw it knock out Mas—Fu, and then suddenly, everything went dark.” Wayzz frowned, as if the experience still disturbed him. “I only woke up again when Pavone found me.”

“Then you know who Pavone is?” Marinette questioned, leaning forward eagerly. But Wayzz merely regarded her in much the way Master Fu did whenever she asked a question he wasn’t about to answer.

“Unless he chooses to reveal himself to you, Marinette, his identity is his secret, and his alone,” he said decisively.

Frustrated beyond belief, Marinette glared up at Nino, who raised his hands and eyebrows.

“Don’t look at me. I never met the peacock dude, and Wayzz wouldn’t even tell me who _you_ were. The turtle has spoken, ‘Nette.”

She huffed, folding her arms.

“So, to recap,” she growled, “everyone but me and Tikki knew that this Pavone is an ally, though he’s never introduced himself to me or Nino, and he was the one who Chose Nino after finding Wayzz on his own after the attack happened.” Marinette scowled, turning an aggrieved look on her master. “There’s a lot of shiftiness going on…how do we know this Pavone is actually helping us?”

Master Fu raised an eyebrow.

“Has he done anything to give you cause to doubt him?”

Marinette’s frown deepened, her lower lip jutting out in a pout.

“Well…no. But I still don’t like it! If he’s an ally, what’s he got to hide for? And _why_ didn’t you tell me that there was going to be a new Turtle Miraculous holder?! I’m Ladybug! I need to know these things!”

“Marinette,” Tikki said softly, her tone a bit reproaching. Marinette glanced down at her for a moment before her eyes went back to Master Fu…to find his expression abruptly clouding. He gazed down at his wizened hands, shifting his thumbs a bit.

“…Letting go of Wayzz…was not an easy decision,” Master Fu said quietly. Marinette bit her lip, recognizing too late that she had crossed an invisible line, the point driven home when Wayzz bowed his head as well, setting his lettuce piece to the side, apparently hungry no longer. Nino’s gaze shifted between the kwami and the master, looking as uncomfortable as Marinette felt.

“We have been together many years,” Master Fu continued, “but perhaps it was too long. If anything, the attack upon me and my home made me see that I could not afford to hang onto Wayzz any longer. So when Pavone brought him back to me…it was with great sadness that I had to send him away again, to someone more able-bodied than I will ever be again. I originally asked Pavone to watch over him and to guide him, for I was unsure of whether or not I could bring myself to see Wayzz with a new master…but of course, my duty won out over my personal feelings, so soon enough, I was able to meet Nino, and teach him all I knew about the Turtle Miraculous.” Here, Master Fu smiled at Nino. “And he has exceeded every single one of my expectations so far. It is a good match, and I am grateful to Pavone for Choosing you, Nino.”

Nino’s face grew ruddy, and he chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his head.

“Oh, uh, thanks, Master Fu,” he said sheepishly. “Oh, and, uh, I finally figured out a superhero name: Emerald Shell. Shell for short.”

“Emerald Shell,” Master Fu repeated, nodding his approval. “It is a good name.”

“It is,” Wayzz agreed, and for a moment, he and Master Fu were able to look at each other, the fondness between former master and kwami not forgotten in any sense of the word. This made Marinette look down at Tikki, who was looking up at her with her big, indigo eyes, and think: if the day approached where she became too old to be Ladybug anymore, and had to say goodbye to Tikki…what would she do? Could she swallow her feelings of loss and teach the new Ladybug everything she knew? Would she be able to face such a bittersweet moment…?

Sighing, Marinette felt the rest of her indignation leave her. She reached out and stroked her kwami between her antennae with the tip of her finger, smiling as Tikki closed her eyes and buzzed in appreciation. Maybe she did understand why Master Fu hadn’t rushed to tell her about Nino after all.

“I’m sorry, Master Fu,” she apologized, giving the old master a contrite look. “I didn’t mean to…well…”

She wasn’t really sure how to finish that sentence, but it was deemed unnecessary when Master Fu nodded with an understanding smile.

“Worry not, Ladybug. I am here to guide you, after all…though I will remind you that it is also fine for you to discover things on your own.”

“Right,” Marinette mumbled, grimacing. She really needed to learn to keep her temper when it counted. Clearing her throat, and finally picking up her chopsticks, Marinette ate some of her lunch before another concern made itself known to her, and she glanced up at Master Fu with another frown. “But, Master Fu…now that your Miraculous—I mean—the other Miraculous that I still have…does this mean I have to become the Guardian now…?”

“Certainly not,” Master Fu assured her, and Marinette felt the sudden tension leave her shoulders. She watched, curious now, as the old master turned to Nino. “Emerald Shell, from now on, the title of ‘Guardian of the Miraculous’ rests on your shoulders.”

Nino stared at the pair of them in blank confusion.

“…Okay, I have no idea what you two are talking about,” he confessed, golden gaze switching between them. “What do you mean, ‘other Miraculous’? I thought there were only five: ours, Chat Noir’s, Pavone’s, and The Butterfly’s. You’re telling me there’s _more_?”

“There are many more Miraculous in the world, Emerald Shell,” Master Fu informed him, though he managed to surprise Marinette with this information as well. “I was guardian of seven of them, however, and the remaining two have been in Ladybug’s possession ever since my attack. But since you are the new Turtle Miraculous holder, they are now _your_ responsibility.”

Nino’s gaze managed to get wider.

“M-mine?!” He sputtered, panic clearly rising within him. “B-but…Marinette’s been doing this longer than I have, shouldn’t she—”

“I don’t mind at all,” Marinette made sure to clarify, just as Master Fu said,

“The Turtle Miraculous holder is always the Guardian of the Miraculous. That is how it is done.”

“Guys, I _just_ became a superhero, like a _week_ ago,” Nino reminded him, definitely panicking now. “You’re asking too much!”

“It’s not a big deal!” Marinette insisted, though a part of her felt guilty about shoving this responsibility onto Nino, when she herself had lost a fair amount of sleep over it. “All you have to do is guard the box that they’re stored in. Preferably in a safe or something.”

“But what if whatever attacked Master Fu comes after me next when it finds out I have the Miraculous?”

“Well, you’re a superhero for a reason, aren’t you?”

Nino scowled.

“Nice, ‘Nette,” he grumbled, and she sighed, realizing he had a point.

“I didn’t mean it like that. Do you really think I’d let anything happen to you?” Marinette reached across the table, patting his forearm. “We’re teammates now, Shelly. That means I’ve got your back and you’ve got mine, right?”

“I really wish you’d stop calling me Shelly,” Nino grumbled, but he smiled a little, his free hand reaching over to pat Marinette’s forearm as well. “…But I guess I _do_ feel a little better, knowing Ladybug’s in my corner…but what if I screw up…?”

“I have complete faith in you,” Master Fu assured Nino in much the same way he had assured Marinette when she had been briefly forced to don the Guardian mantle. “Just as you have become an amazing Turtle Miraculous holder, you will also become a brilliant Guardian…perhaps even better than I ever was.”

“Those are some big shoes to fill, Master Fu,” Nino said, giving the old master a wry look, and Master Fu laughed. Marinette grinned, surging with affection for the both of them. Lately, things hadn’t been ideal for her as Ladybug—thrust back into duty without a moment’s notice, having her MIA partner turn his back on her, having Paris tear itself down the middle over what was the right and wrong way to deal with akuma…it had been a rough couple of months, to say the very least.

But having these people in her corner—an old master who long ago saw something in her she wasn’t even aware she had; a mystical fairy that gave her superpowers and tirelessly encouraged her to do the right thing and be the best person she could be; an old friend turned new teammate in just a night; and a mysterious ally who chose to stay hidden in the shadows for reasons all his own—made Marinette feel that maybe things were beginning to look up for Ladybug after all.

Now if only a certain cat would remove his head from his ass and return, too…then Marinette would be happy.

The rest of lunch passed by with only one more question that couldn’t be answered: why Poseidon had reverted to his civilian form so suddenly. Master Fu had no answer, and the only explanation he could think up was,

“Well, if The Butterfly can give these powers at will, then it makes just as much sense for them to be able to take them away at will as well, right?”

Marinette had already theorized this on her own, and decided to let the matter drop, finishing her pho and ushering Nino out of the restaurant with promises that they would see Master Fu again soon.

“He looks a little older than the last time I saw him,” Nino remarked, surprising Marinette as they walked back to her car. “I feel like his hair got whiter overnight.”

“You mean he didn’t always look like that when you met him?”

“Nah. But it’s weird, isn’t it? I know the dude’s, like, two-hundred, but he doesn’t look like it…or he didn’t when I started training with him, anyway…what’s up with that?”

They were in the car now, and it was Wayzz who answered the question.

“The Turtle Miraculous has the ability to slow the aging process. Now that a new Turtle Miraculous holder has been chosen, Mas—Fu will be aging a bit faster now.”

Nino took that in, silent as he gazed out the window as Marinette pulled out into traffic. After a moment, she caught the grin that began to spread across his face.

“So, I won’t age? I’ll be immortal, like a god?”

“No,” Wayzz replied patiently; Marinette got the feeling that he’d been dealing with these sort of questions too long for them to faze him anymore. “You will merely age at a slower rate than normal humans.”

“Good thing you didn’t become Miraculous while we were still attending Dupont, then,” Marinette spoke up, grinning herself. “You would’ve been juvenile forever.”

“Hey!”

They traded barbs back and forth for the remainder of the car ride. It wasn’t until they arrived back on Marinette’s street that Nino paused, frowning down at something in his hand.

“Alya tried calling me,” he reported to Marinette, cringing as he joined her on the sidewalk. “Five times.”

Marinette frowned. Uh-oh…how had he missed five calls from his girlfriend?

“Did you have your phone on silent?”

“Well, yeah. We were kind of having an important conversation…”

“Well why didn’t you switch the volume back on when we were done?”

“I forgot?”

Marinette sighed.

“You’d better call her back now, then, and hope she isn’t too pissed to—”

“Nino?”

Marinette and Nino both glanced up, freezing once they noticed the figure waiting on the steps of Marinette’s townhouse apartment.

It was Alya, looking cold and confused, her arms folded around her for warmth as she stood on the stairs, glancing between her best friend and her boyfriend, clearly trying to put two and two together.

Nino’s mouth was gaping open in horror, but Marinette recovered first, purposefully nudging Nino as she resumed walking forward.

“Hey Alya! You’re an hour early, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, well, I thought we could give you a facial and paint your nails and stuff…the works.” Her eyes narrowing behind her glasses, she glanced between the pair of them once again. “What were you two doing out together…?”

“I finished Nino’s CD cover and went over to show him,” Marinette explained before Nino had a chance to flounder. Rare were the times when she wasn’t forced to outright lie to Alya, and Marinette was grateful for each and every one of these precious moments.

“Oh…yeah! It looks kickass,” Nino said with a nod. As they drew level with Alya, Marinette passing her to unlock her door, she heard Alya ask,

“Really? Can I see it?”

“Ah, sorry, babe: I left it back at my apartment.”

“Okay…so, you wanna explain to me why you’ve been ignoring my calls?”

“I had it on silent, babe. I’m sorry,” he apologized as Marinette unlocked her door, allowing the couple to pass her into the warmth inside. “‘Nette and I were having lunch in a place that was kind of sensitive about cell phone use.”

“It’s true,” Marinette piped up with a grim look. “But despite the needed distraction of cellular devices, we found things to talk about. Did you know Nino had to talk Adrien out of buying a corsage for me for tonight?”

That managed to capture Alya’s attention, the suspicion in her gaze draining, replaced by glee as she turned to her boyfriend.

“You did _not._ ”

“I so did,” Nino huffed and rolled his eyes. “He was being such a dork, freaking out about the color and the type of flower. I nearly had to smack some sense into him.”

As Alya snorted with laughter, Nino’s eyes met Marinette’s, and he mouthed “thank you” at her, which Marinette replied to with a smile.

“Oh, Nino, before you go, I wanted to give you _that stuff_ for a certain someone’s birthday,” she fibbed, making an obvious gesture towards Alya. “Alya, can you wait here for a second?”

Alya’s suspicious look returned, but it was tinged with playfulness this time around.

“Fine, fine, be all secretive. But you know surprise parties don’t work on me.”

“We’ll see,” Marinette teased, waving Nino up the stairs after her and closing the door behind him.

“What was that about?” Nino asked, clearly not comprehending as Marinette moved to the box underneath her bed, lifting it with a grunt and carrying it over to him.

“This. The Miraculous chest is in this box,” she murmured to him, handing it off before removing her necklace with the key on it, stuffing it into his coat pocket. “Be _very careful_ with them, understand? Hide them however you can. You can keep them in this box, or you can find another place for them, just as long as they’re safe, okay? They’re your responsibility now, Guardian.”

Nino groaned.

“Whether I like it or not, I guess.” He sighed, but his grip on the box tightened as he gave a solemn nod. “I’ll guard them with my life.”

“I hope it never has to come to that,” Marinette said gravely, moving around him to open her door and head back downstairs. Behind her, Nino sighed again.

“Me, too,” he confessed.

After minimal teasing about what could be in the box, Alya strictly ordered Nino to return to Marinette’s later that night, at five forty-five sharp.

“Prince Cheesy will be here at six, so I wanna make sure he knows what’ll happen if Marinette comes back in worse condition than when we sent her off,” Alya said darkly as she shooed Nino down Marinette’s front steps, ignoring the slight exasperated look Marinette gave her.

“You know, you’re not my mom, Alya,” she reminded her best friend, who rolled her eyes.

“I don’t have to be to be protective. You’re _my_ Marinette, no matter whose vagina you came out of.”

“AND that’s my cue to leave,” Nino announced, looking uncomfortable now. He leaned over, pecking Alya’s lips before he jumped the last few steps, the box containing the Miraculous held under his arm. Marinette wanted to warn him again to be careful, but she couldn’t say much without seeming suspicious, so she settled for a mere warning look as Nino waved at the pair of them before he walked away, his gait strong, easing Marinette’s worries…

…That is, until Alya got her back inside and slammed the door shut, locking it in an ominous manner.

“And now…” she began, turning on Marinette with a wicked look that Marinette was far too familiar with, unfortunately, “it’s time to get to work.”

Marinette sighed. It was going to be a looong afternoon.

 

* * *

 

Adrien fidgeted, pacing at the bottom of the stairs of Marinette’s place. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten here so early—okay, he was only ten minutes early, but apparently, that ten minutes was still vital for Marinette’s preparation, if the way Alya had shoved him back was any indication.

“You said six, and it’s not six yet! So you have to wait!”

And, while thoroughly ignoring Nino’s protests to not make him wait out in the cold, Alya had slammed the door shut, and that was that.

Which left Adrien to, well…pace.

‘ _You could wait in the car where it’s warm,_ ’ his mind reminded him, but the thought of sitting still, even in a warm place, made him even more restless, and so he prowled around out front instead, like some alley cat waiting for food.

He kept his gaze carefully away from Marinette’s balcony, because when he thought about how, just last night, he had been up there chatting with Marinette in a leather cat suit like it was nothing, his face heated up, and his pacing increased.

He really couldn’t justify the late night visit. It had come out of the blue, this restless desire to see her. Texting her hadn’t seemed like it would be enough, but it wasn’t like he could just pop over whenever he wanted…not as Adrien, anyway…

Plagg was less than pleased about this random desire.

 _“You can’t just turn into Chat Noir just to see your girlfriend! That’s abusing the power of the Miraculous,_ especially _since you’re refusing to do your superhero duty right now! No, I don’t wanna do it, I want no part of this weird mating ritual you’re trying to initiate with your girlfriend!”_

Three boxes of camembert had changed the kwami’s tune pretty quickly, but Adrien still felt bad. Plagg had a point, after all…it wasn’t like he could get away with this method of seeing Marinette whenever he wanted, when she herself had cautioned him not to make it a habit. And he still had no idea why the sudden need to see her had become so overpowering…

‘ _It’s probably because I hadn’t seen her since Monday,_ ’ he reasoned to himself, nervously smoothing down his gelled hair—he had gone through a whole bottle trying to tame the blonde mess, and now he was seriously considering a haircut. ‘ _She kept refusing to jog with me all week, saying it was too cold, so tonight would’ve been the only other time I saw her this week…_ ’

And yet, the promise of Saturday still hadn’t been enough for him. Why?

As Adrien buttoned and unbuttoned one of his cufflinks as he paced, the sound of the door unlocking up the stairs made him stop, and he abruptly turned on his heel, facing the door as it creaked open.

Alya frowned down at him, her glasses flashing in the light of the streetlamps outside.

“Okay, we’re just about finished here…are you ready?”

“Uh…yes?” Adrien said, though it came out more like a question. What was Alya making this into a big deal for, anyway?

Her frown deepened at the confusion on Adrien’s face.

“I swear, Agreste, if your jaw doesn’t hit the ground as soon as you see her—”

“Alya,” Adrien heard Marinette sigh from somewhere inside, and Adrien stretched onto his toes, wanting to catch a glimpse of her…but Alya remained stubbornly in his way.

“…All right, fine,” she conceded after a minute. She disappeared, the door closing briefly in front of her once again, only to open a moment later, revealing…

…Oh, _wow._

She was an absolutely lovely vision in pink: the dress was made of Organza fabric, sleeveless, with a sweetheart neckline and an empire waistline, fitting her lean frame perfectly, the bottom made entirely of ruffles that shifted as she walked. The soft pink made Adrien think immediately of her when he saw it in the Chanel window display, but seeing it _on_ her…

He was not prepared. He could only gawk stupidly as she carefully made her way down the stairs in those pink heels he could just see under her dress, and only because she lifted the ruffled skirt a bit so she could walk. On her arms were long white gloves she must have bought somewhere, matching her white fluffy coat. When Adrien was finally able to drag his eyes away from her clothes, he took in her face, and her skin was _glowing_ , her make-up done expertly, eyeliner and mascara emphasizing the shape of her eyes and how very _blue_ they were, the curve of her lips defined by pink lipstick, her cheeks flushed…or was that rouge? It didn’t really matter, she was gorgeous either way, her dark hair done up into an elegant bun, with a chain of thin, glittering rhinestones criss-crossing her bun, and two spiral curls framing her face, her bangs swept to the side as always. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she let her skirt fall, smoothing it out with her gloved hands before she looked up at him. Her cheeks darkened a bit when she caught his gaze, but she smiled all the same, and Adrien felt his mouth go dry.

Nothing on _earth_ could have prepared him for the way Marinette Dupain-Cheng looked tonight.

There was a snort next to him, and some sort of pressure under his chin—someone was closing his mouth for him.

“Mission accomplished,” Alya decided, her voice sounding gleeful, but Adrien couldn’t look over to make sure. He was still so enraptured by the beauty that was Marinette Dupain-Cheng, all dolled up for a night out.

A night out with _him,_ no less…

“Dude, say something,” said Nino, and there was a nudge to Adrien’s ribs. “She’s gonna think you’re catatonic if you keep staring at her like that.”

That managed to rouse Adrien from the stupor Marinette had put him in, with absolutely no effort on her part. He managed to clear his throat, and had to drop his gaze to the ground so he could think straight.

“You look beautiful,” he offered shyly, because they had an audience. Marinette giggled, and his gaze immediately snapped to hers, unable to help it. She was smiling again—oh god, his heart, he was going to _die_ —and gave him a playful shove to his chest, managing to make him stumble back a step.

“You clean up well, too, Mr. Model,” she teased him, and Adrien felt himself relax a little. That’s right, there was no need to be nervous…she was just his plus one to the ball. There was absolutely no reason for his face to be so hot, nor should he suddenly feel that his Armani suit was constricting his chest, making it hard to breathe…

“Uh,” he began, forcing himself into speech when he realized he was staring again; he cleared his throat and turned away from Marinette, opening the passenger side door of his car. “I was told by _someone_ that it was gauche to get you a corsage…but I didn’t want to come empty-handed, so…”

“Oh,” Marinette sighed softly, her eyes widening with surprise as Adrien pulled out a bouquet of a dozen long-stemmed pink roses from his car. His face was now on fire, but he still managed to hand over the flowers with as much grace as he could. Marinette took them, staring down at the bouquet for a moment, saying nothing. This caused Adrien some distress—she wasn’t allergic to flowers, was she? Or maybe she didn’t like roses? He really should have checked with Alya first, shouldn’t he have? Oh god, what if she hated them and was just too nice to say anything?

As he began to sweat, it was with some surprise that he registered the blush that filled Marinette’s face, and her smile when she looked up at him again…god, she was _radiant._

“That’s so sweet. Thank you,” she said, her smile widening. Adrien nearly choked on his own tongue.

“You’re welcome,” he mumbled, managing a smile of his own for a moment, while inside, his mind was panicking. What was _happening_ to him???

“I’ll take those,” said Alya, and Adrien jolted; he had nearly forgotten that she and Nino were still there. He watched mutely as she took the roses from her best friend, shooting him a look that was rather smug, for some reason. “I’ll put them in water for you, Mari.”

“Thanks. You know where the vases are,” Marinette replied.

“Your purse, Miss Marinette,” Nino teased, handing over a tiny pink clutch bag to Marinette. As she thanked him, Adrien caught the questioning glance she gave Nino, who replied to it with a wink. Satisfied, Marinette smiled and turned away from him, leaving Adrien to glance between them curiously. What was that about…?

“So, Agreste—how late are you going to be keeping my Marinette out tonight?” Alya demanded to know, claiming his attention once again. Marinette gave a weary sigh.

“I told you, Alya, the ball lasts until midnight,” she reminded her friend. Alya’s gaze narrowed behind her glasses.

“And I’m supposed to believe that this swanky ball lasts for six hours?”

“It starts at eight thirty,” Adrien informed Marinette’s protective friend. “We’re leaving now because the Sainte de-Coquille _chateau_ is on Montmartre.”

Nino gave a low whistle.

“That’s a drive.”

“Which means we have to leave now if we don’t want to be late,” Marinette said with a pointed look at Alya. Alya did not look like she gave any fucks about the schedule, however.

“Isn’t it fashionable to be late? Relax, girl, I only want a word with your date for a second—”

“It’s not a date,” Adrien and Marinette denied at the same time, their faces flushed.

“Uh-huh. You,” Alya said, grabbing Adrien’s upper arm, “come with me for a second.”

And, with a strength that was not so surprising, since it was Alya, she hauled Adrien up the stairs and out of earshot, thoroughly ignoring Marinette’s protests that they were going to be late and that this _really_ wasn’t necessary. But she was detained by Nino—most likely on Alya’s orders—and so Adrien was cornered by her best friend, who rested her free hand on her hip, frowning up at him.

“You remember that favor you owe me?” She began without preamble, “I wanna cash it now.”

Adrien blinked.

“Oh…now? Uh, but I’m kind of busy tonight—”

“Shut up and listen, Agreste,” Alya growled at him, and Adrien closed his mouth, his eyebrows raising. Hmm…maybe the source of Marinette’s attitude was the woman standing right in front of him… “That beautiful girl down there? She means the world to me. And all I want is for her to be happy.”

Alya’s hazel eyes flashed behind her glasses, and her hair seemed to fluff out, like a storm was building within her, waiting to rain hellfire down on Adrien’s head. She reached up with her free hand, gripping the lapel of Adrien’s trench coat and yanking him down to her eye level.

“So I’m letting you know now: if you break her heart, I’m hunting you down. I don’t care how much you might say that you’re just friends and you didn’t realize you were hurting her feelings—I _will_ hunt you down, and I will make your life _so hellish_ that you will _beg_ me to kill you.”

And, as if the threat wasn’t unnerving enough…Alya abruptly smiled so sweetly that Adrien nearly broke out in a cold sweat.

“Do we understand each other, Adrien?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied automatically, unable to help himself. Nino was right—Alya was _scary_ when she was mad.

“Good.” Alya let go, smoothing out his lapel for him, her smile growing less dangerous. “Bring her home safe, young man. I don’t wanna have to come hunting for you in the middle of the night.”

“Oh come on,” Adrien huffed a little, growing indignant. “Mari’s my friend, too. Do you really think I’d be so irresponsible?” After all, wasn’t this a little much? For god’s sake, Alya was acting like he was going to _eat_ Marinette as soon as she let them out of her sight. Best friend or not, this was a little overboard.

Alya inspected him for an inscrutable moment. Just for a second, there was a flash of something Adrien didn’t expect in her eyes: worry.

“I hope not,” was all she said in reply, before she waved him off, back down the stairs. “Come on, Nino, I gotta put these in water before we lock up and go back to your place.”

“Have fun, kids,” Nino teased them with a wink as he passed Adrien, obeying the summons of his girlfriend.

“Do _not_ have sex in my apartment!” Marinette called after them, which prompted Alya to waggle her eyebrows at her best friend.

“I make _no_ promises,” she teased, grabbing Nino by his wrist and dragging him back inside, slamming the door shut behind them. Marinette huffed as Adrien turned to her, amused at the deadpan look she wore.

“I’m gonna have to disinfect everything when I get home,” she grumbled, and Adrien laughed.

“Guess we should’ve made them leave first,” he teased, standing next to his passenger car door, a hand waiting for Marinette. “After you, your Highness.”

Marinette gave him a dry look as she took his hand, accepting his help as she climbed into the car.

“Still sticking with the princess theme?”

“How can I not, with you looking like that?” He teased, and was rewarded with the new blush that filled Marinette’s face. He made sure her dress wasn’t hanging out before he shut the door, rounding the car and climbing into the driver’s seat.

“What did Alya say to you?” Marinette asked as they pulled away from the curb. Adrien flushed and cleared his throat.

“Oh, nothing…something about having you home at a reasonable hour.”

“And?”

“And nothing. That was it.”

“Liar,” Marinette accused, and Adrien’s shoulders hunched. Damn, he forgot how well she could read him at this point…

“Okay, well, there was other stuff…but I kind of don’t want to rehash it, Mari.” He turned, giving her a grimace. “All I can say is I feel sorry for the man who decides he wants to marry you.”

Marinette laughed at that, grinning widely.

“I do, too,” she admitted, “he won’t have to worry about meeting my parents—it’s the _other_ two he has to be afraid of.”

“Three,” Adrien corrected, glancing over in time to see Marinette raising her eyebrows.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He gave her a grin and a wink. “You don’t think I’ll be there intimidating the poor, unworthy bastard right along with Alya and Nino?”

Amusement glinted in Marinette’s gaze, and Adrien had to remind himself to watch the road.

“Well, for that to work, wouldn’t you actually have to be intimidating?” She teased him. Adrien made a show of clapping a hand to his chest, keeping the other firmly on the steering wheel.

“ _Ow._ Your words _sting_ , Mari.” He shot a brief, exaggerated pout in her direction. “I could be intimidating if I wanted to.”

“Sure…but only in a ‘I’m Adrien Agreste and I will always be richer and more attractive than you’ sort of way.”

A stupid grin began to stretch its way across Adrien’s face.

“You think I’m attractive?” He asked, glancing over at Marinette, who rolled her eyes so hard she almost fell asleep.

“The whole _world_ thinks you’re attractive. You wouldn’t be a supermodel if you weren’t.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

“Then most of the world must have the same eyesight, or else you would be out of work.”

“Touché.” Adrien allowed himself a chuckle before he changed the subject; he didn’t want to talk about work right now. “Are you excited about tonight?”

“Yes,” Marinette enthused, her eyes doing the thing where they got big and sparkly, and Adrien once again had to remind himself that he was driving and that it was dangerous to look at her for too long. “This could be my chance to network—I have some business cards in my purse, just in case anyone’s in the market for fresh blood.”

“I’ll be sure to slip in a good word or two for you as well,” Adrien promised.

“Thanks.” Marinette sighed, and Adrien glanced over, his brow crinkling in concern at the slight disappointment on her face. What was wrong? “I just wish I had known about the ball earlier—I could’ve made myself a dress so people could physically see what I can do.”

Ah. That…would’ve been great, actually. Adrien cringed.

“I’m sorry, Mari.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I love this dress,” she assured him, smoothing her gloved hands over the skirt once again. “As a matter of fact, remind me when you drop me off tonight that I need to grab your Christmas present before you go home.”

That caught Adrien’s attention, his eyes wide as he turned to look at her.

“You got me something?”

Marinette smiled.

“I might have,” she teased. “Watch the road.”

Reluctantly, Adrien re-focused his gaze on the road.

“What did you get me?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Please?”

“Nope.”

“Not even a little hint?”

Marinette went quiet. Adrien risked a glance in her direction. Her expression was thoughtful.

“Hmm…okay, one hint: think black.”

Adrien blinked, his brow creasing.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Guess you’ll have to wait, then.”

“Mariiii,” he whined, and she laughed at him.

“You’re twenty-two, Mr. Agreste,” she reminded him, but Adrien pouted nonetheless.

“Meanie.”

“Baby.”

“I’ll turn this car around,” he threatened. He didn’t need Marinette’s flat look to know that she saw right through him.

“Sure you will.” She blinked, her eyes widening a little. “Oh, right, I almost forgot…” She suddenly cringed and let out a drawn out sigh. “…My mother wants to know if you’d like to join us for Christmas dinner tomorrow.”

There was a stoplight that turned red just as they pulled up to it. Adrien stopped the car, and then twisted in his seat to stare at Marinette.

“Me?” He questioned, as if she meant some other ‘you’. Marinette raised an eyebrow at him, a slight smile curving her lips.

“Yes, you. She thinks it’s only fair for you to join us, since you’re whisking me away to the party of a lifetime tonight. If you’re busy, though, that’s totally okay, since I told her you might be unavailable on such short notice—”

“I’d _love_ to come to dinner tomorrow,” Adrien enthused, so surprised and so touched by such an invite that too much fervor was in his voice, his eyes probably too intense; he attributed those things to the reason Marinette blushed. He was probably making her uncomfortable, and so he worked to calm himself, clearing his throat. “I don’t have any other plans…I was going to just spend it at home, but if it’s really okay—”

“Yes, absolutely,” Marinette assured him, nodding a little too much—perhaps she was working to assure him? “We’re going to wear hideous Christmas sweaters and make cookies and watch Christmas movies. It’ll be fun.”

A slow, wide grin began to make its way across Adrien’s face. He had already resigned himself to the fate of a lonely Christmas—Chloe had been highly offended when she found out he was going to a party without her, and had insisted that she and her father spend the holidays in Fiji, far away from him. And it wasn’t like he wanted to spend Christmas with what little family he had left in Italy…so he had been depressed, but resigned, to his fate.

And then actual angel Marinette Dupain-Cheng asked him to spend Christmas with her warm and loving family instead.

There was absolutely nothing pretty enough Adrien could buy her to express his pleasure at such an invitation.

“The light’s green,” Marinette told him in a small voice, glancing away from him, her face red. Adrien tore his gaze from her and put his foot down a little too hard—the car jerked forward, and he apologized, flushing in embarrassment as he eased his foot off the gas pedal.

“I don’t have an ugly Christmas sweater,” Adrien said after a quiet moment fell between them, his eyes kept fixed on the road. “Is that okay?”

“It’s fine, my dad can probably lend you one. He likes to collect them.” The amusement in Marinette’s voice made Adrien smile, too.

“I don’t know how to make cookies.”

“We’ll teach you.”

Adrien smiled.

“Thank you, Marinette.”

“Thank my mom—she’s the one who reminded me to invite you.”

Yes, but even so, if Marinette didn’t want him to spend Christmas with her family, she wouldn’t have said anything. Adrien knew enough about her by now to know that was true, and the silly grin wouldn’t leave his face, no matter how much he tried to sober up; he was too excited.

His first, real Christmas. He couldn’t wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Precious Sunshine Kitten is precious. TT^TT Aw man, this means I have to drag out this weekend by writing a bit about Christmas with the Dupain-Chengs, doesn't it? Damn it...gonna need one hell of a timeskip after this. -_-;
> 
> Okay, so the ball WILL be next chapter, promise~ (And some Ladrien happens, COUGH)
> 
> 'Til then, hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	15. Mistletoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Two chapters in two days...I'm definitely gonna need a break after this. XP
> 
> Anyway, here it is, the promised ball! This chapter ended up being forty-five pages, so that's probably the closest you'll get to a sixty-page chapter from me. XP
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

“Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Adrien announced as soon as they arrived at the _chateau_ , the front door guarded by a burly man checking off names. Marinette looked around her, taking in the cool air with a soft sigh. It would be gorgeous up here, if only it weren’t so damn _cold._

“You may drop off your coats and other winter garments in the foyer. Enjoy the party,” said the man, opening the doors and allowing them entrance. Taking her hand once again, Adrien led her into the most gorgeous foyer Marinette had ever seen, done up in gold furnishings and white marble. Two staircases dominated both sides of the room, and Marinette, by the light of the chandelier, could make out a large painting: a fair, portly man with dark brown hair and eyes, and a kind smile that was a tad uncertain, stood short next to a tall and thin and gorgeous dark-skinned woman, her hair dark brown and curly, puffing out from her head and trailing to her shoulders, her eyes light brown, her face carved and regal-looking. She smiled more with her eyes rather than her lips, and her left hand was perched on the man’s shoulder, showing off the biggest diamond wedding ring Marinette had ever seen.

“Wow,” she breathed, hardly noticing when Adrien helped her out of her coat. He chuckled, following her gaze.

“That’s a portrait of Jacques Sainte de-Coquille, and his lovely wife Amara. She’s—”

“A super-famous supermodel, I know,” Marinette said, wide eyes still staring at the portrait, even as Adrien tucked her arm into his and led her forward through the foyer. “I just didn’t know she was married to Jacques Sainte de-Coquille!”

“Oh yes, they were married just last year; he financed most of her career. He chased her for years, at first—apparently she was a very hard woman to woo, too focused on her career for love. So he used his influence to gain her opportunities so she could make a name for herself. It wasn’t until she became the star of an international fashion show that she finally agreed to marry him.”

“But that happened a couple years ago.” Marinette remembered, because she had watched every video she could of the show obsessively for a week, having missed the actual event because Symone needed her _fabrics sorted…_ but Marinette was over it. Mostly. “I thought Jacques had children our age!”

“He does, from his first marriage. When Amara continually rebuffed his advances, he tried to find love elsewhere, marrying a woman his parents chose for him. But she hadn’t really loved him, and so the marriage ended unhappily. He was divorced for five years before he decided to try and pursue Amara again. They’ve known each other for a long time…it’s a beautiful love story.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow as Adrien led her through the _chateau_ , following the softly glowing candles that lit the way on the walls.

“I didn’t know you were such a sap, Mr. Agreste,” she teased with a smile. He glanced down at her with a smirk.

“Who doesn’t love a good love story?” He asked. “But they’re lovely people. Amara was the one who personally invited me, so I’ll be able to introduce you.” He winked. “Maybe you’ll inspire Mr. Sainte de-Coquille to invest in you, next.”

Marinette smiled.

“Well, not if he’s going to pursue me in exchange. I wouldn’t want to break up a perfectly good marriage.”

Adrien laughed at that as they rounded the corner, coming up on two large, oak doors that were thrown open, sounds of music and laughter floating through the hall to them.

“Amara was a special case, I think. Jacques told me the reason he fell in love with her in the first place was her passion for her work. He wanted to do whatever it took to see her dream become a reality, so he did whatever he had to do to help her make it.”

“That’s sweet, how dedicated he was to her, despite having his heart broken by her so many times.”

Adrien was staring ahead of them, and Marinette was looking up at him, so she noticed immediately when his gaze grew distant.

“Love is stubborn that way,” he remarked quietly. Marinette watched his face, her teeth moving to worry her lip. Where had his mind gone…?

“Speaking from experience?” She blurted out stupidly. As she cursed herself within her mind for speaking so thoughtlessly, Adrien’s gaze turned to her. A slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth…but his eyes were sad.

He looked so much like a kicked puppy that Marinette felt her heart threatening to tear clean in two.

She knew it—he was thinking about Ladybug. Ladybug made him look like that.

 _She_ made him look like that.

Did this mean he wasn’t over her after all…?

“Mr. Agreste!” Called a sudden voice, and Marinette jumped. She hadn’t realized they’d entered the ballroom already, but there they were, in a high-ceilinged room with glass creating most of the west and east walls of the room. A band was playing on the large stage at the north of the room, and a fantastic chandelier sparkled above, casting a bright glow that made everything shimmer—the dance floor, the decorations, the people in the room. It really was like Marinette had entered a fairytale world, the glamor almost too much for her to process all at once. She blinked, brought back to the moment when a camera was abruptly shoved in her face.

“ _Madame_ Sainte de-Coquille has asked all her guests to pose for a picture,” said the man behind the camera, lifting it for emphasis. “Could I get one of you and your date?”

Marinette opened her mouth automatically to deny that there was any such thing as a date happening here, but Adrien interrupted.

“Sure,” he agreed, and Marinette blinked in surprise when he drew her close to his side, sliding an arm around her waist. “Anything for Amara.” He glanced down, smiling a little. “Smile, Mari.”

So distracted was she by him that the photographer had to call her to get her attention, and she flushed, straightening and forcing herself to smile as naturally as she could. He took a couple shots, thanked them, and stepped back to let them pass. As they descended the staircase down into the ballroom, Marinette groaned under her breath.

“I was making a stupid face, I know it,” she grumbled. Adrien chuckled softly.

“No face you make is stupid, Mari,” he assured her with a wink. Marinette smiled weakly, unable to tease him, now that she knew he was still in love with Ladybug. She had managed to push the issue to the side for so long, but here it was, a couple months later…and Adrien was still stuck on her. The _wrong_ her.

And she had to spend the whole evening in his company, painfully aware of that fact.

Some concern must have shown up on her face, for Adrien’s amusement faded, and now he matched her concern with a look of his own.

“Mari? You okay?”

Huh…how was she supposed to answer that question without outright lying through her teeth?

Marinette stared up at him, taking him in. As much as he had complimented her tonight, Adrien more than cleaned up well: in his fitted, three-piece suit, and gelled and combed hair, his side-swept bangs a little more subdued than usual, he looked like a bona-fide movie star arriving on the red carpet for the premiere of his next of many blockbuster films. He was really too handsome to be allowed, and Marinette wished she had someone to complain to about it…but since neither of his parents were here to take responsibility…

“Oh, dear Adrien! You made it!”

Distracted, Adrien looked away from Marinette, grinning as a stunning, dark-skinned model made her way over in a sweeping white gown, her dark, curly hair piled high onto her head in a long ponytail, which she swept back from her shoulder as she leaned forward—she was a little taller than _Adrien_ , holy crap—and kissed Adrien on both cheeks.

“Amara,” Adrien greeted, taking the model’s hands and squeezing them. “Always a pleasure.”

“You flatter me,” she replied, smiling warmly. “There are so many people I must have you meet. If you’ll come with me—”

“Ah…” Adrien’s gaze went to Marinette, which brought her to Amara’s attention. Under her scrutinizing gaze, Marinette abruptly felt inadequate. She hated it. “Amara, this is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, a friend of mine. She’s a fashion designer.”

“Nice to meet you,” Marinette mumbled, once again unable to smile naturally, so intimidated was she by Amara’s very presence.

Amara appraised her for a moment.

“A fashion designer, you say?”

“Budding fashion designer,” Marinette hastily corrected. “I, um, don’t have anything out yet…”

“Ah.” Nodding, Amara turned to her, resting a hand on her cheek and making Marinette blush. “I know it’s hard, dear. I struggled for years before I got anywhere. But don’t lose hope. As long as you keep working at it, someday you’ll be brilliant.”

“She’s already brilliant,” Adrien claimed, the pride in his voice causing Marinette to flush further. “She just needs her first big start…maybe you can convince your husband to take a look at some of her stuff?”

“I could certainly do that,” Amara mused, statuesque even while she was thoughtful. “Do you have anything for me to show him?”

Marinette gaped at her. What…just like that??

Adrien winked at her from behind Amara, and Marinette gave him a tremulous smile in return. Perhaps his influence with Amara was just strong enough to convince her to give a no-name like Marinette a chance…?

Fumbling for a moment with her purse, Marinette withdrew a business card, carefully avoiding the pocket Tikki was stowed away in. Her hand shook slightly as she handed the card over to Amara.

“Th-there’s a website on there with some of the pieces I’ve done, um, if you could…I mean, if you want to take a look…”

Amara glanced over the business card, reading the information before she glanced back up at Marinette, smiling with her eyes rather than her lips.

“Thank you. I’ll make sure Jacques gets it. For now, I’m afraid I have to steal your date away. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Oh…no,” Marinette replied, unsure of whether or not her refusal would go over well here, in Amara’s domain. “Go ahead. I’ll, um…just be around.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t hog him all night,” Amara assured her, her lips curving into a small smile now. “Please, enjoy the party. I will return him shortly.”

Adrien gave Marinette an apologetic smile as he was whisked away by Amara. Marinette returned it, waving a little until he disappeared into the crowd of glamor. The crowd in which she had no place. Sighing, Marinette scanned the room, wondering where the snack table was, since Adrien had assured her that heavy _hors d’oeuvres_ would be served. She only took a couple steps around the edge of the dance floor before a familiar face distracted her—a red head in a green chiffon dress, looking about as nervous and out of place as Marinette felt.

“Hello,” she greeted, smiling as the woman blinked rapidly, taking her in with wide eyes. “It’s Amanda, isn’t it?”

“Oh…yes…” Amanda cleared her throat, not quite meeting Marinette’s gaze. “You’re Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“That’s me,” Marinette confirmed, and Amanda blushed as red as her hair.

“Uh…Marinette…that whole thing with me being Bari-Star…I’m, uh—”

“No harm done,” Marinette assured her with a kind smile. She waited until Amanda hesitantly returned it before moving on. “So, what’re you doing here?”

“Oh, uh…I-I came with—”

“There you are, sweetie!” Called a familiar voice, and Marinette and Amanda turned as Desiree strutted forward, looking drop-dead gorgeous in a red taffeta dress that had a high slit up the right side of the skirt. She paused, her smile turning into an absolute grin of delight once she spotted Marinette.

“Oh! Mari-doll, you’re here, too! That’s fantastic!” She came forward, embracing Marinette before she stepped back to look at her. “I haven’t seen you since winter break started! What are you doing here?”

“I’m Adrien Agreste’s plus one,” Marinette informed her professor. Her eyes widened.

“Oooh. Nice catch, Marinette,” she teased with a grin, causing Marinette to flush.

“N-no, it’s not like that,” she rushed to correct, “we’re just friends, honestly, he just needed someone to go with so I…yeah.”

Desiree arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow, casually sliding an arm around Amanda’s waist, who flushed at the contact.

“I see.” Her tone implied she saw a lot more than there was to the situation, but before Marinette could try and convince her, she continued, “And where is your ‘friend’?”

“Uh, _Madame_ Sainte de-Coquille borrowed him for some stuff,” Marinette replied with a shrug and a “what-can-you-do” grin. The grin left, however, when Desiree’s eyes widened again.

“Oh…really?” She raised her free hand to her cheek, looking concerned. “Oh dear, you may not see him for the rest of the night, then, Mari-doll.”

Marinette blinked in surprise at this.

“What do you mean?”

“Well…I shouldn’t gossip, actually,” Desiree muttered, looking troubled. “Forget I said anything—”

“You think the rumors are true that she’s cheating on her husband, then?” Amanda asked in a low whisper. Desiree and Marinette both stared at her, and she flushed under the attention. “I-I mean…that’s what you meant, isn’t it, Desiree? It’s not exactly a secret, right? Apparently, at every party the Sainte de-Coquilles have thrown lately, she’s been picking the most handsome and influential man and disappearing with him for hours at a time—”

“Mandy, please,” Desiree hushed her with a finger to her lips. “It’s not polite to spread such rumors. I’m sure _Madame_ Sainte de-Coquille is perfectly happy with her husband, even if some jealous people swear up and down that she only married him for his money—”

Marinette paled now.

“What?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Marinette,” Desiree apologized, cringing. “They really are just rumors, I wouldn’t worry about them, honestly. I’m sorry I even brought it up.”

But now that she had…Marinette was beginning to wonder. According to Adrien, Amara had only agreed to marry her husband after she became internationally famous…was it because she had finally achieved her dream? Or was it because she realized that she could use her husband’s money and influence to be even bigger than she already was?

Was Amara secretly like Jacques’ first wife, marrying him only because it was convenient?

‘ _No._ ’ Her mind rejected the notion, remembering the kindness that Amara had just shown her, the encouragement she had given her…

But had that kindness actually been patronizing? Had that encouragement actually been mocking? Was Amara at all what she had appeared to be on the surface…?

Her face must have been very telling, for Desiree’s beautiful face crumpled.

“Please, Mari-doll, don’t look like that. They’re only rumors,” she assured her, her free hand touching Marinette’s cheek, in much the same way Amara had. “Come on. Let’s get you a drink.”

Unable to come up with any reason not to, Marinette allowed herself to be steered in the direction of the food table, where at the end sat flute glasses full of what looked like wine. As Desiree and Amanda chatted and flirted beside her, Marinette let her mind wander, her eyes on her feet…so when she ran straight into someone, she had no one to blame but herself, and cursed herself for her distraction.

“I’m sorr—”

Marinette’s tongue halted, nearly choking on the apology. She took hasty steps back, staring up at the assistant to the owner of _Tres Bien_ Boutique, his pale hair slicked back, dressed in a dark blue tailored suit, an eyebrow raised. Felix.

Marinette swallowed. She hadn’t seen him up close in quite some time: just in the background sometimes, when she was paying attention. What the hell was _he_ doing here?

“I am here representing Symone,” Felix replied, and Marinette suddenly realized that she had accidentally voiced the question. “She is hoping to gain new financial backers, since you seem to have stolen the one she was counting on the most.”

Marinette glared.

“I did _not_ steal Adrien,” she growled, and Felix’s eyebrow climbed higher. “He just didn’t want to lower his standards to back someone who would steal someone _else’s_ designs.”

“Hmm. You’re his plus one, aren’t you?”

Marinette’s eyes narrowed.

“How do you know that?” She demanded to know. Felix lifted and dropped a shoulder.

“You’re on the guest list,” he explained, but Marinette didn’t stop glaring at him, certain that there was no way he should know that. And to think, once upon a time, she admired him and his cool composure, composure that refused to shatter even under Symone’s worst tantrums.

Now, all she saw was a shifty character, skulking around in shadows, convinced he could not be seen…but Marinette was onto him. She still didn’t have any proof that he was anything more than what he was presenting himself to be, but when that day came—

“…Well,” he spoke when Marinette refused to say anything more, “this has been sufficiently awkward. As much fun as it is to have you glaring at me for no good reason, I’m afraid I have to return to work. Good night, Marinette.”

“Felix,” she returned tersely, still scowling as he turned on his heel, disappearing into the glamor crowd just as suddenly as he appeared. The tension did not leave her shoulders, however, and she turned to apologize to Desiree and Amanda for the distraction…only to find them nowhere in sight. She blinked, turning around fully and searching for them. Where had they disappeared to?

“Boo,” breathed a voice in her ear. Because she was already on high alert, she reacted automatically, whirling and grabbing the hand that touched her shoulder, twisting it and bringing her perceived assailant to his knees.

“Ow! Mercy, Mari!” Cried the assailant, and Marinette jolted when she realized it was _Adrien._

“Shit,” she swore, letting go immediately and raising her hands, grimacing as Adrien pushed himself back to his feet, wincing as he massaged his wrist. “I’m _so_ sorry, Adrien. I thought you were, uh, someone else.”

Adrien quirked a brow at her, still rubbing at his wrist.

“Who the hell put you on edge while I was gone?” His expression of concern warped into one of foreboding. “Do I need to kick someone’s ass? Do I need to call _Alya_ to kick someone’s ass?”

Despite herself, Marinette giggled.

“No, don’t call Alya,” she warned Adrien, grinning. “She’ll shut this whole party down. And I doubt Amara would like that very much.” And speaking of Amara… “But that was quick…whatever she wanted you for didn’t take very long, huh?”

“Ah, nope.” Adrien slipped his hands into his pockets, a strange kind of tension beginning to roll off him, making Marinette raise her eyebrows. “She just had some, uh, news to tell me.”

“…Which was?” Marinette prompted when Adrien said nothing more, her curiosity getting the better of her. What could Amara have possibly told Adrien to make him look like that…?

Before Adrien could reply, however, the band on stage abruptly stopped playing, and the crowd began to applaud as a portly man made his way on stage. He smiled in a nervous sort of way, lowering the microphone stand down so that he could speak.

“Welcome, friends, to the annual Sainte de-Coquille Winter Ball,” he greeted warmly, and another round of applause was given. “Thank you so, so much for coming. My wife and I are very glad you could share Christmas Eve with us, and I know I speak for both of us when I say that we’re pleased with the turn-out this year.” Jacques glanced around, as if looking for someone, before he cleared his throat and continued. “So, please enjoy the party! The _hors d’oeuvres_ table is fully stocked—I recommend the wine, since the grapes that made it were grown here!—and the band will be playing until midnight. And careful where you step—mistletoe _is_ hanging from the ceiling, so if you happen to wander underneath one, you know the rules! Let’s enjoy the last hours of Christmas Eve together, everyone!”

The crowd applauded once more, and Jacques left the stage, allowing the band to resume their playing. Adrien smiled down at Marinette, offering his hand to her.

“May I have this dance, your Highness?” He teased with a wink.

Marinette gave him a look that was half-amused, half-pained.

“Well, I would…” she cringed, “but I’m afraid my feet aren’t really made for dancing.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I’m clumsy,” Marinette reminded him with a sigh. “It’s only thanks to a miracle that I haven’t tripped over this dress and fallen flat on my face yet.”

Adrien covered his mouth with the back of his hand, but Marinette could still see him smirking, and she scowled at him.

“It’s not funny,” she told him.

“Of course not,” Adrien agreed, abruptly sobering. “It’s absolutely tragic that you think being clumsy means you can’t dance.” He offered his hand to her again, smiling a heart-melting smile. “Do you really think I’d let you fall?”

Marinette pursed her lips. She could feel her resistance beginning to crumble…and it was all because of that stupid smile he was currently wearing. Damn it.

“You’ll be forced to amputate your toes because of me,” she warned him…but her hand was already moving, sliding into his grasp. Despite the gloves she wore, she could still feel the warmth of his hand. He closed his fingers around hers and grinned.

“I’ll take my chances,” he assured her. Helpless and hating it, Marinette allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor, flushing a little as he slid an arm around her waist, hand resting on the small of her back as he guided her hand to his shoulder before he gripped her free hand once again within his. “You know how to waltz, right?”

“Did you not just hear me say that I’m clumsy?”

Adrien laughed.

“It’s all right, I’ll teach you. Let’s start simple, with the closed change. I’ll lead, so first, I’ll step forward with my left foot…” He did so, and Marinette, reacting automatically because she didn’t want her toes stepped on, moved her right foot back. Adrien grinned. “Look at that, you’re already getting it.”

“I didn’t want my toes smashed,” Marinette explained, feeling like he was giving her too much credit.

“Don’t worry: I’ll avoid your toes if you avoid mine,” Adrien joked. “Okay, now, next, we step to the side. Or you do, anyway—I move in close like this to step to the side…”

As he moved into her space, Marinette couldn’t help but note how good he smelled. Whatever cologne he was wearing, it was a very good choice…

“Mari? Still with me?”

“Yes!” She yelped, flushing dark red. Adrien gave her a curious look, but when she avoided his gaze, he shrugged.

“All right…I need to you to step over to me, Mari.”

“Oh, right…” She stepped to the side, so she was directly in front of Adrien again, and he smiled.

“Good. Now _I_ step back, and you, forward.” He stepped back, and Marinette followed. “And then you cross this time, to my front…” He stepped to the side, and Marinette carefully slid her foot forward so that she was standing in front of him once again. “And that’s the waltz. Only with more turning. Easy enough, right?”

“Seems like it.” Marinette pursed her lips, dubious. Yeah, it seemed easy enough…until she tried to do it a bit faster, which would no doubt result in her tripping on the hem of her skirt, pitching forward, taking Adrien down with her, causing them to bump into another couple, who would go sprawling into the _hors d’oeuvres_ table, sending food and wine everywhere and thereby effectively ruining the night—

Adrien gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, and Marinette’s thoughts ceased their spiral into madness for a moment. When she looked up, he was smiling gently once again, and Marinette stubbornly ignored the uneven thumping of her heart in her chest.

“You’ll be fine,” he assured her. “We can start slow, and we’ll pick up the pace only when you’re ready. Okay?”

Marinette swallowed a little, but her desire to not fail at anything won out, and she nodded her agreement.

“Okay.” She tightened her grip on his shoulder, determination flooding her. “Let’s do this.”

Adrien laughed as he slowly started forward, waiting until Marinette matched his movement before he moved on to the next step.

“It’s just a dance, Mari. It’s not like we’re going to war.”

“Says the graceful model man,” Marinette grumbled, focusing on their feet as they moved. She heard Adrien snort, but was too busy making sure she didn’t stomp on his toes to look up and scowl at him as she wanted to.

“I’m only graceful when I’m still,” he assured her, slowly turning them as Marinette repeated the steps over and over, counting in her head. One, two, three, four…one, two, three, four… “When I’m moving, not so much.”

Marinette lost count as she snorted and rolled her eyes.

“Oh yeah, I’ve seen you on a catwalk. You’re a hot mess, Adrien Agreste,” she quipped sarcastically, looking up to deadpan him a look. Adrien, in response, grinned toothily at her.

“You think I’m hot?” He teased, and Marinette shook her head.

“Don’t start that again.”

“Aw come on, let me have the ego boosts when I can get them.”

“As if you need them, with the whole world clamoring for your autographs on pictures they have of you hung up in their room—”

“Speaking from experience?” Adrien asked lightly. Marinette, feeling her face and the back of her neck flush hot, did not answer him, choosing instead to count until she calmed down. One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four…

“You picked it up fast,” Adrien complimented her after a minute, smiling…or, at least, Marinette assumed he was smiling. Her eyes were closed, so she couldn’t really tell.

“It’s easier if I don’t think about it and just move,” she told him, keeping her eyes closed, even when Adrien chuckled.

“Think you’re ready for a little more?”

Marinette frowned, her eyes still firmly shut.

“I don’t know…”

“Okay. Just let me know.”

He left it at that, which gave Marinette the room to be a bit surer in her steps before she opened her eyes again, looking up at him. It embarrassed her to note that he had probably been watching her this whole time while her eyes were closed, and so she strove to distract him.

“Okay, what’s next?”

At this, Adrien smiled.

“Just follow me. Try not to think too hard about it…but if I’m going too fast, let me know, okay?”

Marinette raised a brow, deciding to tease him.

“What, you think I can’t keep up with you? This is cake now.”

Adrien smile evolved into a grin.

“Oh yeah?” He challenged. “Big talk from the woman who had to close her eyes and memorize the closed change first. Are you sure you don’t need a few more minutes?”

Marinette’s eyes narrowed.

“Try me,” she shot at him.

Adrien’s grin grew wicked.

“You asked for it,” he cautioned her. And then, before Marinette was ready, he turned them at a swifter pace, the steps a half beat faster. But Marinette, who was competitive beyond belief when she wanted to be, would not be bested, so for every step he made, she strove to match it, and found that it was actually much easier if she was focusing on keeping up with Adrien. Rather than letting him lead, she was dancing _with_ him, like they were partners. So when Adrien spun her out, she obliged, twirling in his grasp before he brought her back in, turning her so that her back was pressed to him now, the dance still continuing, though now only his hands guided her. Marinette bit her lip and concentrated on not accidentally stepping on her dress, and soon enough, Adrien brought her back around to ground she was more familiar with, facing him again and giving him a superior look that made him snicker. The next moment, the world was suddenly bending backwards, and Marinette yelped as one of her feet left the ground, certain she had slipped and fallen after all…but Adrien had her by the waist, and was leaning with her…he was _dipping_ her.

Marinette pouted at the smug look on his face.

“Warn me next time,” she growled at him as they straightened up. “I thought I was falling.”

“Oh, you were,” Adrien teased with a wink. “Falling for _me,_ that is.”

Marinette stared at him.

That…was the _cheesiest_ pick-up line it was _ever_ her misfortune to hear. It would have made Chat Noir proud…in fact, it was _definitely_ a line that would’ve gained the rogue cat’s approval, had he been around to hear it…

“Mari?” Adrien asked when Marinette didn’t say anything; his grin dropped, and a flush spread through his face. “I was kidding…I mean, I didn’t mean—”

“Pardon, but may I cut in?”

Amara was suddenly there, smiling with her eyes at the pair of them. Adrien’s hands slowly slid away from Marinette as Amara snaked an arm around Adrien’s.

“Adrien, dear, while your dancing skills are commendable, I’ve promised our friends an exclusive display of your piano skills. Won’t you oblige me?”

“Oh…sure, Amara,” Adrien agreed, causing Marinette to frown. Was he just incapable of saying ‘no’ to this woman? “Just one song, right?”

“Of course.” To Marinette’s surprise, Amara slipped an arm through hers as well, smiling down at her. “You’d like a front row seat, I’m sure, Marinette.”

“Uh, sure?” She replied, immediately checking her aggravation with Adrien; she wasn’t able to say ‘no’ to Amara any more than Adrien was able, it seemed.

Amara moved purposefully through the crowd, never having to excuse herself or ask people to move—the crowd parted automatically, and she was able to move through easily. Marinette was impressed by this woman whose presence was so strong that people just moved out of the way when they sensed her coming. It was a little intimidating…but mostly it was awe-inspiring.

“Come on up,” Amara invited, leading them to the stairs that would take them onto the stage. She went up first, and Marinette and Adrien followed, Adrien once again offering his hand in assistance as Marinette gathered a fistful of her skirt as she climbed the stairs that could become oh so treacherous the minute she stopped paying attention…

“Friends,” Amara spoke into the microphone, once she had silenced the band with a raised hand, “it is my very great pleasure to introduce to you Mr. Adrien Agreste, fashion supermodel and CEO of Agreste Fashion.” She led the applause for Adrien, who stepped to the center of the stage with Amara, smiling his model smile as he waved to the crowd. Marinette stood awkwardly near the curtain, unsure of what to do with herself. Amara hadn’t bothered to introduce her, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about that—while she’d rather not be introduced as the no-name fashion designer, it seemed a bit strange to just ignore her presence altogether too…

“Adrien has agreed to grace us with a song,” Amara announced to the crowd, and there was a ripple of excited mumbling at this. “He is gifted at the piano, though, of course, not without the proper muse…” And now Amara turned to Marinette. “Miss Dupain-Cheng, if you would?”

Marinette could feel her face grow hot. It was one thing to not introduce her at all, but to introduce her as Adrien’s _muse?!_ Now she _really_ couldn’t tell if Amara was being genuine…or just mocking her.

Until she figured it out, she did as Amara was gesturing to do, seating herself at the piano first, averting her eyes until Adrien sat down beside her, shielding her from the eyes of the crowd.

“Any requests?” Adrien asked, positioning his hands properly on the piano keys, giving her a smile. Marinette briefly got lost in it, pulling herself out with a small shake after a moment.

“I didn’t even know you played,” she admitted, to which Adrien shrugged.

“I don’t often. Just when I have the time…which is never…” Clearing his throat, Adrien smiled again. “Should I surprise you?”

“Sure,” Marinette encouraged. Still smiling, Adrien turned his attention to the keys, his hands tensing, poised for something to happen…

And then, faster than Marinette could blink, Adrien began to play.

It was like nothing Marinette had ever seen before—his hands flew over the keys, knowing when and where to strike, as if this was their true domain, where they thrived: creating music. Adrien played with vigor and without sheet music, playing a song Marinette had never heard before, the melody playful and wild, reminding her of sunshine, a breeze playing across wild grass, the smell of dew in the morning…it reminded her of freedom.

And the way Adrien grinned while he played—like the sun was in his smile—made Marinette realize that he _loved_ this, that he loved playing the piano, that it broke his heart to leave one untouched for so long, just because of his demanding work schedule. He seemed so very happy to be given the chance to play again that Marinette couldn’t tear her eyes away from him, even if she tried, even if she wanted to. It was a moment before she realized that the song had drawn to a close, that he was finished, and that the crowd was applauding—she was still reeling from the shock, her mouth open in awe.

Was it really fair for him to be beautiful and talented all at the same time? Why was Fate so cruel?

“Isn’t he wonderful?” Amara asked the crowd, smiling as she moved to the piano, gesturing for Adrien to take a bow, which he did. “Thank you, dear, that was beautiful. I’m so happy you agreed to play for us.”

Amara gave a snap, and the band resumed its playing, and she descended the stairs with Adrien in tow, leaving Marinette to bring up the rear, carefully avoiding the bottom of her dress again. At the bottom of the stairs, Adrien was being mobbed by admirers, so rather than fight through them, Marinette decided to go around them. It was suddenly too stuffy in this room for her…she could do with some fresh air.

A door was slightly ajar on the east side of the room, and so Marinette made her way over, stepping out onto a grand balcony that overlooked dozens of buildings below, the Basilica of the Sacre Coeur right next door, the stars glittering in the velvety night sky. It would have been a stunning view…had Marinette not been immediately distracted by the short figure slumped on the bench in front of her, looking utterly defeated.

Marinette blinked in surprise, moving forward cautiously.

“ _Monsieur_ Sainte de-Coquille?”

Jacques lifted his head, his sad eyes focusing on Marinette.

“Oh…good evening, _mademoiselle,_ ” he greeted her, trying for a smile that looked strained. He eyed her as she carefully sat beside him, wishing for her coat. “You’re clearly cold. What brings you out here?”

“I needed some air,” she said honestly, glancing over at the sad man beside her. “…And what about you, _monsieur_? This is your party, isn’t it?”

Jacques sighed.

“To tell you the truth, it is more my wife’s party than it is mine.” He shuffled his feet, twisting his wedding ring. “You saw her in there. She’s the best at networking, making the right connections and everything. I’m just…in the way.”

Marinette’s heart gave a painful squeeze. Clearly, this man was very much in love with his wife…but she had spent a good amount of the party schmoozing Adrien. That couldn’t be fun to watch; Marinette herself wasn’t exactly crazy about it, but it was different—while she and Adrien were just friends, that was someone’s wife who was dangling on his arm, introducing him to the other influential giants of the fashion industry…and who knew what else…

“I’m sure that’s not true,” she kindly disagreed with Jacques, carefully laying a hand on his shoulder. He glanced at her with a slight smile.

“You are kind,” he noted, “but I know what is true. My wife is one of the most beautiful, sought-after supermodels of the world…and I…I am just a man whose only attractive quality is the riches he was born into.”

“ _Monsieur,_ ” Marinette protested, but Jacques got to his feet, turning to her with a heartbreakingly sad smile.

“It is fine. I know what I am…and I suppose I should have known that this would happen eventually. Serves me right for chasing dreams, I suppose.” He gave another sigh, turning his gaze skyward. “I think…I will go for a walk. Please, enjoy the rest of the party, _mademoiselle._ ”

Marinette frantically searched her brain for something, _anything_ that would make Jacques stay so she could cheer him up…but there was nothing she could say. After all, she didn’t know him very well, and she knew Amara even less—there was nothing she could tell him that would sound convincing, considering she lacked the knowledge necessary to _be_ convincing. She had no idea what their normal relationship was supposed to look like, so how could Marinette vouch for Amara when she herself was having doubts about the woman’s character and motives in marrying her husband? What could she do but watch Jacques trudge away, dragging his feet, looking like the shell of the man he had been in the portrait done of him and Amara in happier days?

Sighing herself, Marinette got up from the bench, folding her arms around herself as she stared out at the view, not taking in any of it. After all, what was all this without someone to share it with? That was all Jacques wanted, wasn’t it? Someone who he could share all this with, who loved him as fiercely as he seemed to love? Was that too much to ask?

Marinette distinctly heard the door behind her creak open again. She turned, finding Adrien approaching cautiously, as if he was afraid she’d bite him. When he met her eyes, he seemed to relax, closing the space between them effortlessly now.

“I wanted you to hear me coming so you wouldn’t attack me again,” he told her, smiling in a wry fashion. Marinette flushed.

“Sorry,” she apologized again, turning her gaze from him. Something weighty suddenly settled over her bare shoulders, warming them. She glanced down in surprise at the jacket that now hung around her, her gaze switching to Adrien, finding him just in his vest and a white dress shirt, his tie tucked into the black vest. He gave a little smile when she met his eyes.

“I know you hate to be cold,” he explained with a slight shrug. Warming at his kindness, Marinette drew the jacket closer around her, smiling when she realized it smelled like him.

“Thanks.”

Silence fell between them, each lost in their own thoughts for a while.

It was Marinette who spoke first.

“You really like to play the piano, huh?”

Adrien smiled at this, something about the gesture bittersweet.

“Yeah…it was something my mom and I liked to do together.”

His mother…

Marinette glanced over at him, worry creasing her brow. She didn’t want to bring him down tonight with thoughts of his mother…but she was just so very curious…

“…What happened to her?”

Adrien shrugged.

“Well, that’s the million euro question. No one knows. One day she just…disappeared. And she never came back.” Adrien took a deep breath, appearing to steady himself. “After that, my father hired some stuffy old lady who wasn’t any fun to continue teaching me piano. But it wasn’t the same. Nothing was ever the same…after she left…”

Adrien’s gaze was focused out into the distance, his expression suggesting that there were horrors out there, horrors that Marinette couldn’t even begin to fathom.

“…After learning that my father was…who he was…I started wondering…what if my mother didn’t just disappear…? What if he…did something to her…? What if—”

“You’ll drive yourself crazy with thoughts like that,” Marinette said softly, laying a hand on his forearm. Adrien gave a snort, giving her a wry look.

“Didn’t you hear? I’m already crazy—I have to see a therapist once a week for these exact issues.”

“Really? And how’s that working out for you?”

Adrien’s smile became genuine.

“Best decision I was ever strongly suggested into. Did I say thank you yet?”

“Not in so many words…but the cat pin was a clue.”

Still smiling, Adrien threw an arm around Marinette’s shoulders, giving her a squeeze.

“You do understand me, huh?” He sighed, letting his arm slide away from Marinette, leaning forward on the balcony railing on crossed arms. “Really, Mari: thank you. You’ve done so much for me already…and to think, I wouldn’t be where I am today if you hadn’t decided to give me another chance.” He glanced over at her, his expression quite serious now. “I’m grateful. Really. Thank you, Marinette.”

Marinette smiled, feeling herself warm.

“Don’t mention it,” she said, patting his back. “And thank _you_ for inviting me here. It must be nice, to be able to party and network all in the same place.”

Adrien shrugged, his gaze distant again.

“Eh…I could live without the networking, honestly. But it seems like, when you’re in the fashion industry, you’re never _not_ working. No party is ever just a party, no one hangs out just to hang out. There’s always an ulterior motive: this fashion designer wants me to wear his clothes for promotional reasons, this model wants to star in a shoot with me, this photographer wants me on the cover of this magazine. It’s exhausting, not being able to relax, always having to be on guard, to wonder who around you is actually here for _you_ , and not what you can do for them.”

As Adrien sighed again, Marinette was struck with yet another revelation about him…this one more surprising than the last:

“You _hate_ modeling,” she marveled out loud, staring at him with wide eyes. Adrien blinked, turning to give her a stunned look.

“Well…‘hate’ is a strong word…”

“You _absolutely_ hate it,” Marinette insisted, now disgusted with herself. Of _course_ he hated it—they kept him on a strict diet all the time, he had to pose for hours and hours, and it was his model persona that caused people to misunderstand him and believe that he was someone he was not all the time. How had she missed something so obvious until now??

Adrien frowned, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well…I’m not crazy about it, I guess…and I could do without all the fashion shoots and stuff—”

“Then why do you do it?”

Adrien stared at her.

“…What?” He asked, looking startled. Marinette frowned, taking in his expression. What did he mean, ‘what’?

“Why do you do it?” she repeated herself, carefully watching his face. “It’s not like you need the money, right? And it’s not like your dad is forcing you to model for him anymore—there’s literally nothing stopping you from quitting since you hate it so much. So why don’t you?”

“…”

Marinette stared up at Adrien, refusing to drop his gaze, watching his expression as emotions shifted rapidly through it: shock, confusion, aggravation, shock again, confusion again. Finally, he fixed her with a look that was…empty.

As if everything that made Adrien Agreste had suddenly drained away, leaving only his shell behind.

“…It’s all I know,” he admitted after a moment. And Marinette, because she had pushed him to this conclusion, had to watch as his expression crumpled…and shattered. “I’ve always been a model—it’s part of who I am now. There’s…nothing I’m passionate about, not really. Modeling’s all I have…without it…”

His gaze lowered to the balcony, his shoulders hunched, as if he carried the weight of the world on them.

“…Without it…I don’t know who I am.”

The silence that fell after that was deafening…and it was shattered by words that were even more cutting:

“That’s stupid.”

Adrien’s gaze lifted, staring at Marinette. As she watched, he began to frown.

“What do you mean, it’s stupid?”

“I mean that being a model isn’t who you are, Adrien,” Marinette clarified her rude words with a scowl of her own. “It’s a job. A job you hate. Even if you quit, it wouldn’t change who you are. And who you are is a dork. A funny, sweet, caring dork.” As Adrien blinked at her, Marinette smiled. “Despite how you’re introduced to crowds, your job title changing doesn’t diminish you as a person. At the end of the day, whether it’s ‘supermodel’ or ‘comedian’…you’re still Adrien Agreste. And no job can change that.”

Slowly, a small smile graced Adrien’s features.

“How did you get so wise?” He teased her softly, taking her hands in his. Marinette smiled up at him.

“I’m an old soul,” she answered cheekily. “I’ve been around a lot longer than you’d think.”

“I believe it,” Adrien joked with a wink. “You’re totally the Mom Friend of the group.”

“Ha ha, don’t say that in front of Alya: she claimed that title _years_ ago.”

“Shit. Don’t tell her I said that, then.”

“Well, I mean, it could so very easily slip out the next time I talk to her—”

“Come on, Mari, don’t be mean. I thought you liked me?”

“When did I say that?”

Adrien gave another exaggerated pout, and Marinette laughed. He was so cute…in a strictly platonic, friendly way…

“Seriously, though,” she said, wishing to return to the original point, “you shouldn’t force yourself to do something that makes you unhappy. You’ll only die a lot younger that way.” She squeezed his hands, giving him a gentle smile. “And I do kind of like having you around.”

Adrien’s cheeks warmed, and he matched her smile.

“But if I quit, you won’t be able to call me Mr. Model anymore,” he teased, causing Marinette to raise an eyebrow. Did he really like such a silly nickname that much?

“I can still call you Mr. Model,” she reasoned with a slight shrug. “You quitting modeling doesn’t stop you from being gorgeous.”

She realized her mistake immediately when a slow grin spread across Adrien’s face.

“…You think I’m gorgeous?” He teased softly, his eyes alight with something warm…something familiar…

And though Marinette wanted with all her might to roll her eyes—he was just being a little shit at this point—she didn’t. Instead, she let herself smile.

“I do,” she confirmed, her face warming at the admission.

It was nothing compared to the blush that filled Adrien’s face, though…

There was an explosion of sudden sound, screams ripping through the peace of the night. Marinette and Adrien jumped, unconsciously moving closer to each other, looking around for the source of the trouble…when an evil-sounding cackle sounded from somewhere within.

Marinette’s heart sank.

Really? _Now?_

Exchanging nervous glances, she and Adrien rushed back inside…to find that an uninvited guest seemed to decide to crash the party: chaos. Everywhere Marinette looked, people were fleeing, screaming, from rapid-fire gold bullets whizzing by, pelting guests. Marinette was horrified until Adrien yanked her out of the way of one, and it ricocheted off the glass door, shattering it before it lost its momentum and fell to the floor. Marinette crouched down, her eyes widening in surprise. Was that…a gold coin?

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Enjoying the party?! Too bad! ‘Cause Mr. Moneybags is here now, and this room isn’t extravagant enough!! So I’m gonna fill it up with so much gold that no one will be able to escape! An eternal party—fitting for all you ungrateful guests!!”

Marinette’s head snapped up, finding the source of the problem on top of the extravagant chandelier—a squat man in a white, glittering suit accented with gold, wearing the euro symbol as cufflinks, a ring, a tie clip, stunner shades, and a buckle on his white top hat. As her mouth gaped open in horror, he raised what appeared to be a high-tech machine gun loaded up with gold coins, and began to rapid fire said coins at the doors leading to the only exit from the ballroom…if no one wanted to jump from the balconies outside. The akumatized victim only laughed louder at the terrified screeching, wheeling around on the chandelier to get a perfect shot at all the guests that fled in every direction.

“No one leaves! Especially not _you_ , Mr. Young-And-Handsome-CEO-Slash-Supermodel!” Mr. Moneybags commanded, aiming his gun right at Adrien next. Without pausing to think about it, Marinette tackled Adrien out of the way, and they landed behind the _hors d’oeuvres_ table, the food items and glasses of wine on top of it promptly destroyed by the rapid fire from Mr. Moneybag’s money machine gun.

“Stay here,” Marinette ordered Adrien, gathering her skirt into her hands as she crouched, prepared to run. “I’m going for help.”

“Mari, no!” Adrien protested, but just as he tried to grab for her, she slipped through his fingers, grabbing a silver food tray that was now empty and holding it over her head as she ran, an impromptu shield from Mr. Moneybag’s bullets. She gritted her teeth as she felt the coins pelting the shield, but she didn’t stop running until she reached the side hallway where she knew the bathrooms to be and darted into the ladies’ room. Several women were cowering in the powder room, but Marinette sped past them, still using the shield to hide her face, into the actual bathroom. It was deserted in here, and so she quickly released Tikki from her purse.

“We have to help,” she told the kwami, who nodded gravely and obeyed the summons as Marinette called for her to transform her. The women outside would no doubt be surprised when Ladybug suddenly rushed past them, but hopefully none of them had gotten a good look at her.

And, if any of them had…hopefully they’d be too grateful to Ladybug for saving their lives to say anything more on the subject.

 

* * *

 

Of _all the nights_ to leave Plagg at home!

Adrien was forcefully kicking himself as he hid under the food table, peeking out from under the tablecloth to assess the situation. Realistically, he was the only one who could help—this was an incredibly exclusive party, which meant that anyone that wasn’t a guest would have a very difficult time getting in. And even if Ladybug managed to get here, it might take her a while…

Adrien swore. Like it or not…he had to do _something_. It was irresponsible of him to just let the akumatized victim rampage, hero hiatus or not. As long as he had the power to do something—

Abruptly, his cover was flung out of the way. Adrien froze, his gaze on the chandelier…the chandelier that was now empty.

While he was having his moral dilemma, Mr. Moneybags had gotten the drop on him.

“There you are!”

Adrien tried to scrabble away, but his ankle was seized, and he was flung onto his back. He grunted in protest, wincing as he stared up at the angry akumatized victim, who grinned widely at him, gold teeth glinting at him.

“Now, hold still,” he ordered, pinning Adrien down with a foot to his abdomen, steadying his machine gun as he aimed right at Adrien’s face. “A few gold coins should disfigure that pretty little face of yours beyond recognition. And then we’ll see if Amara bothers to look twice at you!”

Amara…?

“ _Jacques_?” Adrien yelped, only to have the white heel of Mr. Moneybag’s boot dig into his stomach, making him cringe.

“That’s Mr. Moneybags to you,” growled the akumatized victim, fixing the scope on his machine gun as he aimed at Adrien. “Now, grin nice and wide for me, Pretty Boy, so I can get a decent shot at those teeth!”

As his finger inched towards the trigger, Adrien cringed away, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut in anticipation of the pain...

There was a squawk, and a familiar sound…like rope tying around something…or…

Adrien chanced a peek.

Mr. Moneybags’ machine gun was aimed away, at something behind Adrien, and it looked like Mr. Moneybags was struggling to keep hold of it, for some reason.

And then Adrien saw the wire. He followed it, pressing the back of his head into the floor as he searched for the source, hardly daring to believe it—

But there she was, clad in her red suit with black spots, her dark hair tied back into two pigtails, a red and black mask across her face, her bluebell eyes blazing.

Ladybug.

“Let…go!” Mr. Moneybags was growling, yanking on his machine gun, where Adrien could now see her yo-yo hooked around it. But Ladybug refused to give, her grip tight on the end of her yo-yo wire as she jerked her head at Adrien.

“Run!” She mouthed to him.

Adrien looked down just in time to find Mr. Moneybags reaching for his trigger once again. Reacting quickly, he rolled out from under his foot, kicking the akuma in the chest with both his feet. Mr. Moneybags wheezed, stumbling back and tripping over the upturned _hors d’oeuvres_ table as Adrien stumbled away, racing to Ladybug. She drew her yo-yo back in, turning to inspect him.

“You okay?” She asked him, her anxious gaze roaming his face.

And Adrien…could say nothing. Even after all this time, even after her rejection of him…Ladybug still managed to take his breath away. Especially tonight…was she wearing make-up…?

“Adrien?” She said urgently, and Adrien blinked himself out of his stupor, flushing red.

“Oh…I’m fine,” he finally answered her, to which Ladybug nodded, looking satisfied.

“Good.” As Mr. Moneybags groaned and growled as he pushed himself to his feet, Ladybug began to swing her yo-yo around at a rapid pace. “Hide,” she instructed Adrien, her eyes focused on the akuma.

Adrien felt a sudden moment of panic: Ladybug would be forced to take this akuma on by herself, wouldn’t she? Not that she wasn’t capable of doing so—she was _Ladybug_ , after all—but now that Adrien was going to be forced to see it happen up close—

“Ladybug—” he began anxiously, searching for a way to express how truly sorry he was that she had to put up with such a mess on her own without sounding crazy, when she turned those eyes on him again, frowning anxiously.

“Adrien, _hide,_ ” she insisted again, shoving him back when Mr. Moneybag finally seemed to gather his bearings, his machine gun righted once again.

“You’d better get out of my way, Ladybug, or you’ll have to face the consequences!”

“Oh yeah?” Ladybug taunted, giving him a cocky smile. “Catch me if you can, then, Mr. Moneybags!”

And she took off, racing the gold coin bullets as she ducked and dodged and whirled around the room, the fine decorations pelted with gold in her wake as the akuma tried to shoot at her, gradually growing more and more frustrated when he continued to miss. And Adrien…Adrien could only stand there in awe, his nerves alive with tension, his heart beating faster with every gold coin that whizzed by Ladybug far too closely for his comfort—

It was when she attached herself to the chandelier, hanging upside-down from her yo-yo, that Mr. Moneybags seemed to have her cornered. He grinned his gold grin, aiming up at her as Adrien stood frozen, panicked, taking in the exhaustion and sweat that dripped from Ladybug from dodging for so long, without any resolution, for it appeared as if Mr. Moneybags’ ammo was endless.

“Nowhere to run now, Ladybug,” he cackled as Adrien made himself unfreeze and started forward, needing to do something, _anything_ , to protect her—

“Jacques!” A new voice cried throughout the room. “What are you _doing_? Stop this madness!”

Mr. Moneybags was distracted, and so was Adrien, glancing towards the stage. He groaned under his breath when he saw Amara there, standing tall and proud at the very forefront of the stage, her wide eyes fixed on her akumatized husband. What was she _doing_?

“You stay out of this, Amara!” Mr. Moneybags shouted back at her, throwing her a betrayed look. “I don’t know why you complain—I’m only giving you what you want! Money and power!” He hoisted his machine gun higher, aiming right at Ladybug’s face. “And once I rid Paris of its so-called hero, there will be nothing else in my way! And that’s what you want, right? To be married to a rich and powerful man? Is that why you go off gallivanting with men half my age behind my back? Men like _him?!_ ” He jerked his head at Adrien, who had frozen again, eyes darting in between Ladybug and Amara. He didn’t want anything to happen to her…but Amara was a civilian…and considering her current condition…

Amara placed her hand to her chest, looking shocked and hurt, her wedding ring glittering in the light of the chandelier.

“Jacques—” She began, but Mr. Moneybags didn’t let her finish, raising his own hand, where his wedding ring glinted as well, though it was mostly obscured by the euro symbol attached to it, like some gaudy piece of jewelry.

“As soon as I’m done here, I’m taking this off!” He told her, and Adrien was surprised to find _tears_ stinging the akuma’s eyes now. “I won’t wear it if it only means something to one of us!”

While he was distracted, Ladybug had righted her position, and was swinging back and forth, clearly planning something. When she swung back far enough to reach Adrien, he gave her a push, which seemed to startle her, if her brief glance in his direction was any indication. But with his help, she had picked up more speed, and it was on that swing that she straightened her legs and rammed them into Mr. Moneybags, throwing him back a distance before he fell to the floor, grunting in pain, yet still stubbornly clutching at his machine gun.

“Jacques!” Amara called, rushing across the stage, clearly wanting to go to him.

“Stay there, Amara!” Adrien called to her as Ladybug detached herself from the chandelier, “it’s not safe for you right now!”

“Neither is it for you!” Ladybug huffed at him, turning to scowl at him with her hands on her hips. “Didn’t I say to go hide?!”

“But I can help,” Adrien insisted, trying not to feel too hurt that she was trying to bench him yet again. After all, she didn’t know he was Chat Noir…and it wouldn’t help him even if she did.

Ladybug’s eyes blazed, not happy with him at all. But what else was new?

“Help by _getting out of the way!_ ” She insisted, turning her back on him to toss her yo-yo into the air. “Lucky Charm!”

A tiny spotted thing popped out, falling into Ladybug’s outstretched hand. Adrien watched as Ladybug stared blankly at it for a second.

“ _Gum_?” She questioned, huffing in annoyance. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this…?”

“Maybe blow a bubble big enough to _gum_ up his gun?” Adrien suggested casually. Ladybug growled in frustration, whirling on him.

“Chat—!” She began, her tone heated…and then she froze, blinking at Adrien. He stood completely still, alarm bells going off in his head as he stared back at her. Holy shit…had that comment been too much? Had she figured it out?!

After a moment, Ladybug shook her head.

“I mean, Adrien,” she corrected herself, sighing as she ripped her gaze from him, looking disheartened, “I told you to go already. Let me handle this.”

Adrien could only watch, stumbling back as she pushed him back once more before she unwrapped the gum and popped it into her mouth, chewing quickly. So…was his identity safe after all? Did she simply…mistake him for Chat Noir? Because of the pun? Or…because she was wishing it was Chat Noir beside her instead of him…?

‘ _Don’t be stupid. She can’t stand me anymore, remember? I betrayed her._ We _betrayed her,_ ’ whispered Chat Noir’s voice in his mind as the game of chase began again between Ladybug and Mr. Moneybags’ machine gun, Adrien ducking down beside the stage for cover, as well as to keep an eye on Amara, who still stood unwisely in plain view, watching the battle tensely. ‘ _There’s no way she misses me._ ’

…But if she didn’t miss him…then why would she call for him like that…?

“Jacques, no!” Amara cried, and Adrien pulled himself out of his own head…only for his heart to nearly stop.

Somehow, some way…Mr. Moneybags had Ladybug pinned underneath him, knees pressed against her arms, her legs flailing under her, still chewing rapidly as she stared down the barrel of his machine gun.

She had been cornered.

As Adrien frantically searched for something to help her— _anything_ —his eyes fell upon a food tray near him. Remembering how Marinette had used it as a shield when she fled—Marinette…he hoped she was okay—Adrien snatched up the tray, swallowing as he jumped up, aiming carefully, his heart pounding a violent tattoo against his Adam’s Apple. If he didn’t get this timing just right…if he was even a second off—

‘ _Please,_ ’ Adrien found himself praying, and he clutched at the bracelet he wore underneath the cuff of his dress shirt, made of the lucky charm given to him a long time ago by a sweet baker’s daughter… ‘ _I know my luck usually sucks…but if I could just borrow some from you, Mari, even just a little…_ ’

“Say goodbye, Ladybug,” snarled Mr. Moneybags, cackling once again, pulling the trigger just as Adrien flung the silver tray their way, his heart blocking his throat, making it impossible to breathe—

It swung in between the machine gun and Ladybug just as the first gold coin came rocketing out of the gun. It ricocheted, zooming into Mr. Moneybags’ nose instead. As he howled and rubbed at the abused bridge of his nose, Ladybug managed to get an arm free, wrenching the silver tray out of the way as she blew a huge bubble that popped when it made contact with Mr. Moneybags’ machine gun. As he aimed at her and pulled the trigger once again, gold coins shot out…into the mess of gum that now covered the barrel of the machine gun, thereby rendering it ineffective.

“What the—?!” Mr. Moneybags growled, but Ladybug didn’t give him the chance to figure it out; she seized his left wrist, yanking off the euro ring before she shoved him off her and climbed to her feet, tossing the ring to the ground, where it cracked in two.

“You’ve caused enough trouble, akuma,” she accused the creature as it escaped from the broken object, opening her compact to reveal the healing chamber. Swinging her yo-yo around, Ladybug cried,

“I free you from evil!”

And, like it was nothing, she snatched the akuma out of the air, purifying it before approaching the shattered balcony doors and letting it fly free.

“Bye bye, pretty butterfly,” she called after it. Adrien watched, in awe once again, as she returned inside, snatching the gum wrapper from where she dropped it on the floor and tossing it into the air.

“Miraculous Ladybug!”

The magical ladybugs did their magic, healing the damage caused by the akumatized victim: the ballroom was soon spotless once again, the decorations pristine, the food returned to its original state, wine glasses un-shattered and refilled. It was like the incident never occurred…save for the fact that Jacques Sainte de-Coquille now kneeled upon the floor, shaking. Adrien watched as Ladybug carefully approached him, picking up his wedding ring.

“Pardon me, _monsieur,_ ” she said softly, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I believe this belongs to you.”

Jacques took one look at the ring…and promptly burst into tears.

“Jacques!”

Amara rushed forward now, and Ladybug hastily moved out of the way, dropping the ring beside Jacques as Amara dropped down beside her husband, her hands going to his shoulders. “ _Mon cheri,_ are you all right?!”

“Please, Amara,” he whimpered, refusing to look at her, still weeping. “D-don’t pretend you’re worried…I know you’ve grown tired of me…why do you still put on appearances…?”

“Appearances? Jacques, I _love_ you,” Amara protested, her hands going to his face and lifting it so he was forced to look at her. “I don’t understand…what have I done to make you misunderstand me?”

“Y-you’re always sick at the sight of me, lately,” Jacques wept, his shaking frame tugging at Adrien’s heart, and he unconsciously moved closer, next to Ladybug, who watched the display with sad eyes. “A-and all the parties…you spend on the arm of another man…Amara, what else could I think…? I mean, look at me. Other than my riches, what else could I possibly offer someone like you…?”

Amara sighed softly, her thumbs brushing against Jacques’ cheeks to wipe his tears away.

“ _Mon cheri,_ that’s just not true. While I will be forever grateful for you helping me to achieve my dream, your money wasn’t what made me finally agree to marry you. It was your _heart,_ _mon cheri,_ that made me love you. The way you stood beside me, through all my failures and my triumphs…the way you were always here for me, that you never gave up on me… _that_ was what made me realize that I wanted to marry you.”

Unable to help himself, Adrien glanced over at Ladybug. She wasn’t looking at him, but her hands were pressed over her heart, her eyes misting over. She must find this pretty romantic…the dedication Amara showed to her husband…

Jacques, though he flushed red, still looked doubtful.

“But all the parties…the other men…”

“ _Mon cheri,_ I am so sorry. But it isn’t what you think. I’ve only been so busy with other men at these parties because I’ve been working to end my modeling contracts. I’m retiring, Jacques.”

“It’s true,” Adrien chimed in, smiling a little when eyes swung to him. “She told me earlier tonight—we were supposed to be doing a car advertisement next month, but she cancelled it. That’s why she dragged me away: to tell me in private, so word wouldn’t get out so quickly.”

This news appeared to be most surprising to Jacques, who hiccupped in shock.

“R-retiring? But Amara…you _love_ to model! It’s your dream!”

Amara smiled, her carved features softening at the gesture.

“I have a new dream,” she told him softly, a hand moving to her abdomen. “ _Mon cheri_ …we’re going to have a baby.”

Ladybug gave a tiny “oh!” in surprise, and Adrien was forced to suppress a grin he could feel spreading across his face. She was just too cute.

“A…a baby…” Jacques blinked, his heartbroken expression rapidly transforming into one of wonder. “Amara, you’re pregnant?!”

“Yes, Jacques. The reason I’ve been ill lately isn’t because of you, never. It was just morning sickness.”

“How—how long have you known?!”

“For two weeks.” Her smile became chagrined, but even with such a sad expression, she was still lovely. “Forgive me for hiding it, _mon cheri_. I just wanted to surprise you tonight. The news was meant to be your first Christmas gift…” She glanced over at the delicate watch hanging from her wrist and laughed. “Well, it’s a couple minutes early, but oh well. Merry Christmas, _mon cheri._ ”

“Oh, Amara…my dear, sweet Amara,” Jacques crooned, and as the two shared a passionate kiss, Adrien found himself reaching for Ladybug’s hand, his fingertips brushing hers. She started, eyes flashing to his red face. Quietly, she drew her hand away, and Adrien held in his sigh. Right. She had already rejected him, hadn’t she? It was over, wasn’t it…?

He was therefore very surprised when she jerked her head to the balcony, carefully sidestepping the happy couple kneeling on the floor and traipsing out into the winter night. Curious, and just a little bit anxious, Adrien followed her.

“I figured we should give them some privacy,” Ladybug told him as he joined her on the bench she sat upon, tilting her head at him. “By the way…that was a nice throw, with that tray.”

Adrien smiled, unbuttoning the cuff of his shirt to touch the bracelet he wore.

“I was just lucky,” he said, glancing up to look at Ladybug…to find her staring at his bracelet. For some reason, her cheeks were heating, causing Adrien to frown curiously. What was that look for…?

Soon enough, she seemed to realize she was staring, and tore her gaze hastily away from him, staring up into the night sky instead.

“…Adrien,” she addressed him, the uncomfortable edge to her tone putting him on high alert. “…I’m sorry. For running from you last time.”

“Oh.” Adrien gave a shrug, trying for a smile. “It’s okay, I understand. If I was in your position, confessed to by a stranger, I’d run, too. I’d run screaming, in fact, so, props to you for not doing the screaming bit.”

Ladybug laughed a little, but soon the amusement was gone from her expression, and she lowered her head.

“I just…panicked.” She gave a sigh. “And I guess I panicked because I just didn’t understand…” She glanced over at him, tilting her head once again. “How could you love me? You don’t even know who I am.”

Adrien opened his mouth to deny that…but then shut it again. It was true, after all—as Adrien, he didn’t know her. As Chat Noir…well, things had become hopelessly complicated on that front, but…

“Do I have to know who you are to think you’re amazing?” He countered, searching Ladybug’s expression, and catching the blush she wore before she glanced away from him. She _was_ wearing make-up, wasn’t she? Her lashes were thicker than normal, her lips too pink…had she been at another affair before duty called her here?

…Had she been at this very party, hidden in plain sight…?

Her Miraculous gave a beep, and she sighed, getting to her feet.

“I should go,” she mumbled, turning her back on him again.

And, just like before, because he just couldn’t let her go when he was supposed to, Adrien grabbed her hand, despite knowing that he couldn’t keep her if she really was so determined to go. In fact, the only reason that she stayed was because she consented to pause, stilling under his touch. He let his hand slip away in case he was making her uncomfortable, scooting closer to her while he was still seated on the bench.

“Ladybug…I know this is asking a lot…but could I have an actual answer?” He beseeched her, wishing she would turn around and look at him, wishing that she would pierce him with those blazing blue eyes of hers, like the very first day he had met her… “I know it’s awkward…but I need the closure. So…please…?”

Ladybug’s shoulders rose and fell as she sighed…and finally, she turned to face him again. The usual fire in her eyes was dull, watching him cautiously.

“…Are you sure this is what you want?” She questioned him. Adrien swallowed. He already knew he wouldn’t like her answer. It was inevitable.

…But if he wanted to move on…

Adrien sighed himself, before squaring his shoulders.

“Yes. Please,” he requested once more. Ladybug searched his face for another minute, as if she was looking for misgivings…but when she didn’t find any, she merely nodded.

“All right.” Clearing her throat and folding her hands in front of her, Ladybug smiled softly, the gesture sending Adrien’s heart ricocheting around inside his ribcage, which was completely unfair. “Then I’m very sorry, Adrien…but I can’t return your feelings. You’re a wonderful man…but I just don’t see you that way. And I’m sorry.”

She really was—her expression was all contriteness, her eyes sad, her teeth nibbling her bottom lip in regret. Adrien took all this in…took her all in…and nodded with a sigh.

“I understand.” His gaze went briefly to the balcony floor before he glanced up again, his curiosity flaring. “Is there…someone else?” And then, before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “Is it Chat Noir?”

He hadn’t been expecting Ladybug’s reaction: instead of snorting and saying something derogatory about Chat Noir that would hurt him in his heart of hearts, her eyes merely widened, her face flooding red to match her suit. Her Miraculous beeped again, but she seemed not to notice, merely staring at Adrien, who stared at her in return, shocked. What was _that_ look for?

“… _Is_ it Chat Noir?” He questioned, gaping at her. Ladybug’s pigtails whipped her face with how fiercely she shook her head.

“No!” She protested, though her face grew redder. “I haven’t even _seen_ Chat Noir lately! Why on _earth_ would you think—where the hell did that question come from?!”

“Well, you called me his name,” Adrien reminded her…and then wished he hadn’t, because _he should not be reminding her that she had mistaken him for Chat Noir!_ How stupid could he get?!

But Ladybug’s face only grew redder, and she grimaced.

“That was a mistake,” she mumbled, looking away from him again. “I’m used to him blurting out stupid suggestions in the middle of a fight.”

“Stupid?” Adrien quoted, frowning. “But it _worked._ ”

“I know. It was a good plan, the pun just caught me off-guard, and ugh…” Ladybug trailed off, rubbing her forehead as Adrien stared at her. Rare were the times he had ever seen her flustered, as both Adrien and Chat Noir. It was…interesting… “Just forget about it, okay?”

“Okay…” Adrien tilted his head now, inspecting Ladybug’s face as she turned to the side, as if to hide her embarrassment from him. “…So, you don’t miss him? At all…?”

Ladybug’s profile expression crumpled, her eyes tightening. After a moment, she glanced over at Adrien, and his heart gave a painful lurch at the anguish in her eyes.

“…Of course I miss him,” she admitted quietly, sighing before she turned to face forward again, folding her arms across her chest. “He might’ve been a ridiculous flirt and his puns might’ve gotten too silly on occasion…but he was still my partner.” She unraveled her arms, unhooking her yo-yo from her hip to stare down at it, as if it held all of the world’s answers. “Just because I _can_ do this on my own doesn’t mean that I _want_ to. Doesn’t mean that I _should._ ”

“You have that new superhero now to help you. The turtle one,” Adrien reminded her gently, and Ladybug smiled a little.

“While Shelly is cool…he’s no Chat Noir.”

Adrien felt blood rush to his face, and he was struck speechless.

Even after everything he’d already put her through…how could she possibly still want him back…?

A loud chime reverberated throughout the air, startling him. He glanced down at his watch, finding both hands at the twelve position.

“It’s midnight.”

“Yes,” Ladybug agreed, and as her Miraculous chirped once more in warning, she sighed. “I have to go.” She glanced over at him, frowning in concern. “Are you…okay?”

Adrien stood, able to smile more naturally at her now. It wasn’t the answer he wanted…but at least he knew for sure now, didn’t he?

“I’m fine.” He promised. Ladybug inspected him, giving a slow smile as she reached out and patted his shoulder. He hated the thrill that shot through him at her touch; hopefully that would fade with time.

“Be happy, Adrien,” she wished him, “you deserve it.”

‘ _But_ you _make me happy._ ’

He swallowed the words; they were unfair. Ladybug had been more than nice about this whole thing, and expecting anything more from her would just be selfish. It was time to let go now…time to say goodbye.

As Ladybug cast out her yo-yo, he called to her over the chiming of the Basilica of Sacre Coeur, and she paused once more for him. Mustering all his strength through his breaking heart, Adrien smiled.

“Merry Christmas, Ladybug.” He wished her.

Ladybug blinked at that, momentarily surprised…but then she smiled.

“Merry Christmas, Adrien,” she replied, and then she was off, swinging through the air and out of sight.

Adrien watched her go…and then he heaved a heavy sigh, turning and resting his forearms on the balcony railing.

He supposed it was fine for Jacques to wait as long as he had for Amara, for those two were made for each other, no matter what anyone else had to say about their relationship. It was his dedication to her that made Amara fall for him in the end…but Adrien supposed he just wasn’t meant to have that fate. He had already wasted eight years of his life waiting for Ladybug…and she had already rejected him twice now as Adrien, countless more times as Chat Noir. Choosing to pursue someone that wasn’t meant to be his in the first place was just bordering on masochism, and Adrien was trying to opt for sanity nowadays, so he’d have to push Ladybug from his mind from now on. A part of him would probably still always love her, of course…but he wouldn’t let it consume him anymore. It was time to move on.

Unconsciously, his hand went to the bracelet under his cuff, as if it would give him strength. Marinette had already helped him so much, so it seemed too much to ask her charm bracelet to absorb his unhappiness as well, but even so…

Wait.

Marinette.

Where was Marinette?!

Adrien’s eyes widened, and he whirled, heading back for the ballroom. Oh shit…was she okay?! He had no idea!! How could he have forgotten about her for so long?! He knew that Alya would _kill_ him if anything happened to her, but Adrien couldn’t focus on the Cesaire threat; he had to find Mari!

And find her he did—he had only taken one step into the ballroom before she was bumping into him, yelping in surprise as she wobbled on her heels. Sucking in a breath, Adrien’s arms immediately went around her, holding her close until she could steady herself, wide eyes focused on the top of her head.

“Mari! Are you okay?!”

Marinette glanced up, appearing surprised by his tone. She looked fine—not even a hair was out of place, her make-up still perfect…she didn’t look ruffled at all. Whew.

“I’m fine,” she assured him, her hands patting his shoulders as they rested there. “I managed to hole myself up in the bathroom with a bunch of other women.” Abruptly, she cringed. “Sorry—I wasn’t trying to ditch you, I really was trying to go for help—”

“Don’t worry,” Adrien assured her with a smile, laughing with relief. Mari was here, and she was fine. Thank goodness. “Ladybug saved the day.”

“Did she?” Her eyes widened. “Oh…let’s not tell Alya, okay? She’ll be really upset that she missed it.”

Adrien laughed at that.

“My lips are sealed,” he assured Marinette. They glanced around as the band began to suddenly play again; it appeared as if the party had resumed while Adrien was outside sulking. In the center of the dance floor, Amara was wrapped around Jacques, both looking blissfully happy as they revolved slowly to the music, Jacques' wedding ring glinting on his finger, where it belonged. Adrien smiled, glad that everything had worked out, before he glanced back down at Marinette.

“Hey, it’s past midnight. Merry Christmas, Mari.”

Marinette smiled, looking radiant.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” she returned.

“Mistletoe,” sang a sudden voice near them. Both Marinette and Adrien jumped, turning to find Desiree dancing by, a flushing Amanda in her grasp. She removed a hand from her girlfriend briefly to point up, above Marinette and Adrien’s heads. “You’re standing right under it, kids. Did you really not notice?”

Adrien looked up. Sure enough, there was a cluster of green leaves and red berries hanging above his and Marinette’s heads. Adrien flushed—he had learned the implications of such a festive plant a long time ago, sadly at the hands of Chloe, who had dragged him under one any chance she got. But this year, it was Marinette standing here with him…

He glanced down, finding her already staring at him, her face as red as his felt. Desiree was merciless, laughing at the pair of them.

“You’ve gotta kiss,” she reminded them with a wink. “Go on, we’re all waiting.”

“Desiree,” Marinette groaned, and Desiree laughed again with a slight shrug.

“Sorry, Mari-doll, I don’t make the rules. I just follow them.” She gave a seductive smile. “Why do you think Amanda and I have been gone for a good part of the party? We happened to stumble under one while we were with you, and, well, one thing led to another…”

“Desiree!” Amanda protested now, her face a lovely red to offset the green of her dress. Desiree laughed again, pressing a kiss to her embarrassed girlfriend’s cheek.

“I’m teasing, sweetie,” she purred, and Amanda buried her face in Desiree’s shoulder. Grinning, Desiree winked at Adrien and Marinette again before she whisked Amanda away, further onto the dance floor.

Which left Adrien and Marinette in a rather awkward position.

Marinette cleared her throat, and Adrien glanced down at her, but she refused to look up at him, though he could still see that her cheeks were flaming.

“We…don’t have to kiss,” she assured him, glancing briefly up at him, and then away again. “It’s not like it’s an official rule or anything…”

She was so cute. The way she was so embarrassed over a simple kiss made Adrien want to tease her.

“But what if I want to kiss?” He asked her innocently, her head snapping up to stare at him, her jaw gaping open. He grinned at her. “It doesn’t have to be a kiss on the lips, after all, does it?”

“Oh…” Marinette relaxed, her shoulders slumping with relief. “I guess not.”

“Then let’s just do this.” Finally letting his hands slide away from her, Adrien gave a bow, taking one of Marinette’s hands and pressing a kiss to the back of her gloved hand. Marinette giggled as he straightened.

“Ever the gentleman,” she teased him with a grin. “All right, now that that’s out of the way—”

“Hold on,” he protested, a hand moving to her shoulder as she made to step away, letting himself pout. “What about me?”

Marinette blinked up at him, uncomprehending.

“Huh?”

“Well, it’s not fair that you get a kiss and I don’t,” he explained. Marinette deadpanned him a look.

“Are you serious?”

“Come on, it’s Christmas,” he fussed, lifting his hand, waving his fingers in Marinette’s face. “Fair is fair, right?”

Though he could tell that she was trying hard to be annoyed with him, a smile slipped through her exasperated expression.

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Not until I get a kiss.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Marinette took his hand.

“Fine, you big baby.”

“Yaaaaay!” Posing dramatically, Adrien grinned down at Marinette. “I’m waiting, my handsome prince.”

Marinette quirked a brow.

“Handsome prince, huh…?”

Adrien just barely caught the mischief that crossed her features before she stepped forward, an arm slipping around his waist. He blinked down at her, wondering what she was doing—and then his whole balance was thrown off when she suddenly dipped him. Adrien’s eyes widened, and he nearly flailed, but Marinette didn’t drop him, her grip around him unyielding. Damn, she was strong…

“Wha—” he began to protest…only for words to suddenly flee him as Marinette leaned in. Her lips were soft as they pressed to his cheek for one brief, heart-stopping moment…

When she pulled back, she was grinning at him.

“Well? Good enough, my sweet princess?” She teased him.

Adrien couldn’t speak. He was too busy blushing from the roots of his hair all the way down to his neck, terribly hot in his suit once again, even though Marinette still wore his jacket. He could only stare blankly at her, his mind broken, like a crashed computer system…but this didn’t seem to perturb Marinette, who laughed openly at his expression, leaning back and letting him stand on his own again.

“Come on. We’d better get going if we don’t wanna get back too late. Alya’s expecting me to text her before morning, and if I don’t, it’ll just be bad news for you.” Marinette got a few steps away before she seemed to realize that Adrien was not following her, his feet still rooted to the floor. She turned around, giving him a questioning look.

“…Adrien? You okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied at last, forcing the word from his mouth. He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m fine…”

Smiling, a hint of smugness to it, Marinette held out a hand for him.

“Then let’s go,” she said.

“Okay,” Adrien replied automatically, powerless to do anything else but take her hand, and let her lead him across the room before she suddenly paused.

“Ah…do you mind if I stop by the bathroom real quick? It’s a long drive,” she said sheepishly. Adrien bobbed his head stupidly.

“Okay,” he said again. The whole time, he could do nothing but stare at her back as she headed for the side hallway, feeling like a child compared to her sure steps, her confident strut.

She was dangerous, that Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

He just couldn’t believe he didn’t realize it until just now.

 

* * *

 

Marinette overheard a conversation she wasn’t supposed to hear while on the way to the bathroom. She had only been focused on relieving her bladder, but the sound of a familiar voice had snatched her attention, and she stilled in the hall, listening intently…

“…don’t know what kind of stunt you were trying to pull tonight,” snapped a crisp, clear tone that was unmistakable. “Are you _trying_ to piss me off?”

Marinette’s eyes went to the double doors on her left, tensing automatically.

Who was Felix arguing with so heatedly…?

Marinette could just make out the cadences of another voice…but it was too muffled for her to distinguish words or tone. Frowning, because she knew she shouldn’t, but also knew that she was going to anyway, she stepped closer to the doors, careful about making noise with her heels.

“Don’t play dumb,” Felix replied, sounding closer to the door than Marinette would have liked, and she took a step back, biting her lip. If he suddenly left and caught her out here… “I know what kind of threat you pose. So let me make myself quite plain, because I’m only going to say this once: if you continue to get in my way, you will _not_ like the consequences. Let that be a warning the next time you think about…intervening. Good night.”

Rapid steps began to approach in her direction, and Marinette yelped, hurrying to the bathroom across the hall for cover. She just managed to close the door behind her when she heard the doors opposite open, sharp steps fading away into the distance. Marinette waited, holding her breath, before she dared to peek out again.

The room opposite was a drawing room of some kind. Marinette cautiously stepped forward, scanning the dark room. Though there was a desk, furniture, and bookcases that someone could easily hide behind…she didn’t see any movement at all after a minute or two.

Then did whoever Felix was arguing with leave already?

And what had that argument been about? What did he mean about stunts and threats and consequences and interventions? What the hell had that been about…?

As much as Marinette wanted to stand there and puzzle over this…her bladder was not going to wait, and so, with one last scan of the room, she returned to the bathroom. She didn’t have time for this, Adrien was waiting for her.

She would ponder such a mystery when she actually had the time for it: later.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure you’re good to drive back home? It’s pretty late.”

Adrien smiled. Marinette was too sweet.

“I’m fine,” he promised. “I’m more of a nocturnal person, anyway.”

Marinette frowned at that.

“You can’t be both a nocturnal person _and_ a morning person,” she protested as they stood on the stairs of her townhouse apartment. “That makes no sense. It defies all laws of sleep patterns.”

Adrien snorted.

“Just because you have to sleep ten hours a day to be well-rested doesn’t mean the rest of us do,” he teased with a grin, and Marinette pouted at him.

“Oh just go home already,” she said, swatting him so that he moved down a stair or two.

“Okay, okay, I’m going, jeez,” he chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “What time should I show up for dinner tomorrow? Or later tonight, I should say.”

Marinette pursed her lips thoughtfully as she retrieved her key from her purse.

“Hmm…I think six is okay. I’ll ask my mom and text you if it’s actually later,” she assured him. “You’re sure you’re okay to drive?”

“I’m fine, Mari,” he said once again, grinning at her. “Just go inside and get some sleep, okay?”

“All right.” Smiling a little, Marinette added, “Good night, Adrien.”

“Good night, Mari.”

Adrien reached the bottom step before he abruptly recalled something important.

“Wait!” He called up to Marinette, who jumped and froze in her movement of closing her door, blinking wide eyes at him as he climbed the stairs two at a time. “You almost forgot my Christmas present!”

“Oh…” Marinette glanced away from him. “Uh…wouldn’t you rather wait until tomorrow evening…?”

“After you kept me waiting all night? I don’t think so,” Adrien joked, but his smile left at the awkward look on Marinette’s face. “…You okay, Mari?”

“Oh…yeah. Okay, um…come inside where it’s warm while you wait, then.”

Adrien stepped inside Marinette’s apartment, curious eyes going everywhere immediately as Marinette closed the door behind him.

“Wait here,” she asked of him, kicking off her heels and gathering them and her skirt up into her hands as she marched up the stairs to the door that must lead to the open space that was her huge bedroom/seamstress studio.

As he waited, Adrien distracted himself with looking at Marinette’s apartment. He had never been inside before—well, yes he had, but only as Chat Noir. But he had never been _downstairs_ before, and so he took in the living room, with its mismatched furniture, large T.V. and gaming console, both items looking like they were gathering dust, and he got a glance into the kitchen, spying only a small table sitting off to the side with two chairs, two sliding doors at the back probably leading to a small yard behind the townhouse or something. He had half a mind to move forward into the kitchen to check it out more fully when the door upstairs opened, and Marinette was returning, a box in her hands.

“Okay, here it is,” she said, lifting the box before she carefully slid it into Adrien’s grasp. “Do you want to open it now, or—”

She trailed off in a snort as Adrien eagerly tore through the cheerful-looking wrapping paper, feeling only marginally bad about ruining such a nice wrapping job, too eager to get to his present. Once he finally reached the top of the box, he made himself pause, savoring the anticipation for just a moment longer…and then he flipped the top off the box unceremoniously.

Inside…was something black. And red. Black and red.

Curious, Adrien seized the thing, Marinette helping him by holding the bottom of the box as he pulled the thing out—

It was a jacket. The body was made out of what felt like wool, the sleeves leather. The body was completely red, save for the black spots that dotted it here and there, and the sleeves were completely black, aside from the cuffs, which were wool again, and red with black sporadic dots here, too. Turning it to the back, he received another surprise: in black cursive letters, the words “Ladybug Man” dominated the back of the jacket.

His mouth was open, he knew. He just didn’t care. All he could do for several minutes was gape anyway.

After a while, Marinette sighed.

“You know, your silence is kind of scary,” she noted softly. That jolted Adrien out of his head, and he hastily lowered the jacket so he could see her face…which was resigned, for some odd reason…

“Sorry,” he apologized, grinning an awkward grin. “I don’t mean anything by being quiet. It’s seriously awesome, Mari, thank you.”

Marinette peered up at him, her expression unchanging.

“But?” She prompted. And Adrien sobered, because he knew it would be useless to lie to Marinette—she knew him too well at this point.

Sighing, he stared down at the back of the jacket, blushing a little at the words “Ladybug Man”.

“It’s really nothing about the jacket. I love it.” He glanced up shyly. “Uh…the timing’s just a little bad.”

Marinette blinked at him.

“What do you mean?”

Oh, did he really want to get into all this right now? It _was_ very late…

But Marinette was looking up at him with such concern in her expression that Adrien knew it wouldn’t be right to brush her off, and so he sighed again, smiling a little.

“Well…I’ve never told anyone this before, so please don’t laugh, okay?”

“I won’t,” Marinette assured him, her expression solemn. Adrien took courage from that, his smile widening by a margin.

“Okay…so, for a long time, I’ve been in love with this girl. This girl that was way out of my league from day one, but still a girl I couldn’t help but fall for.” Adrien’s grin grew lopsided as he lifted the jacket for emphasis. “Three guesses for who I’m talking about.”

Marinette’s eyes widened, her lips parting slightly in surprise.

“Oh,” was all she said, and left it at that. Adrien didn’t know if her lack of comment was good or bad…but he just pushed on, wanting to get it all out now that the ball was rolling.

“Yeah. So, while I knew there was no chance with her, I couldn’t help but hope…but she rejected me, once a couple months ago, and again tonight, when the akuma attacked.” Adrien shook his head with a tight grin. “Should’ve seen it coming…but it still hurt.”

Marinette bit her lip, and Adrien hated to see her looking so worried for him over something so silly. Really, he hated it when she was anything but smiling, because it hurt him to see her hurting…it hurt him a lot, actually…

“Don’t worry,” he rushed to assure her, widening his smile. “I’ll be okay. I’m…not, right now, I guess. But I will be. Promise.”

“Well…okay…” Marinette reached up, squeezing his shoulder. “But don’t rush the recovery, okay? You’re allowed to be sad about something like this. A broken heart isn’t an easy thing to fix, so you should take all the time you need to heal.”

Adrien’s smile grew more genuine now. What had he done to deserve a friend like Marinette? Absolutely nothing—she was a literal angel, and he could not be happier that she chose to let someone like him back into her life. Honestly, he was so lucky to have her…

Moving forward, he slipped his arms around her, hugging her tight for a brief moment. It appeared to startle her; she stiffened in his arms for a second…but then she thawed, letting her arms circle him as well. Nothing needed to be said—all the communication was in the hug, and when Adrien finally pulled away, Marinette was smiling, which made him smile bigger in return.

“It’s an awesome jacket,” he enthused again, smiling down at his very own Marinette Dupain-Cheng creation. “I’m gonna wear it all the time.”

“You don’t have to,” Marinette protested, looking startled as Adrien shed his trench coat, right then and there in favor of the Ladybug jacket. “If you don’t want to wear it—”

“Wow, look how great it fits!” Adrien enthused, turning on the spot to pose, glancing back at Marinette. “How does it look?”

Marinette couldn’t help but smile, gathering the wrapping paper and discarded box from the floor, crushing the trash together in her arms.

“You look great,” she complimented him, giggling when he grinned at her.

“And I see it fits me exactly. Where’d you get my measurements from, Miss Dupain-Cheng?”

“You’re a supermodel, Mr. Agreste—your measurements are public knowledge in this industry.”

“Oh, right.” Adrien frowned briefly at that, turning around to face Marinette. “Well…maybe that’ll change soon.”

Marinette’s answering smile was dazzling.

“Do whatever makes you happy,” she encouraged him. She stepped forward, pushing the trash into his arms. “Now do me a favor and toss that out on the way back to your car.”

“Trying to get rid of me already?”

“It _is_ very late.”

“That it is.”

Adrien obligingly stepped back outside, pleased to find that his Ladybug jacket was warmer than his trench coat. Clearly, Marinette had designed it with winter in mind. Useful.

“Well, good night, Mari,” he bade her, turning to give her a parting wave and a smile. “I’ll see you in the evening.”

“Don’t forget to bring your appetite,” she reminded him, a challenge glinting in her eyes. “You _definitely_ won’t be able to eat more than me at dinner.”

Adrien snorted. It was a strange thing to be competitive about…but it was fun, so he wouldn’t complain.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” he replied with a wink. “Night.”

“Good night, Adrien.”

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, Adrien tossed the discarded box and wrapping paper in Marinette’s trash can as she asked, feeling domestic as he did so, like a husband taking out the trash for his wife. Snorting at himself, Adrien moved to his car, tossing his trench coat unceremoniously into the passenger seat. He paused before getting in, however, wanting to admire his jacket in his side-view mirror. He turned, grinning at the words etched into the back. He _had_ said he was a Ladybug man, hadn’t he…?

Despite the bittersweetness of the night, he couldn’t get over how awesome the jacket was, patting it down, admiring the hand stitching and care that came with having a Marinette Dupain-Cheng original…

Adrien blinked, his fingers brushing against a tag near the collar of his jacket. Drawing it back, he spotted words sewn into the tag. He leaned over, squinting, moving further into the beam of a streetlight to read the tag:

‘ _A Marinette Dupain-Cheng Original, made exclusively for Adrien Agreste._ ’

Adrien felt himself warm, idle fingers touching the corner of the tag.

She…had bothered to sew his name into the jacket.

Made exclusively for him…meaning that she would never make another jacket like this again.

It was one of a kind, and it was Adrien’s, and Adrien’s alone.

Blood rushed to Adrien’s face. He glanced up at Marinette’s balcony, able to see light filtering through the curtains to her room. She must have hurried to make this, because he had mentioned just Monday that he was a Ladybug fan…did she push herself to finish it in time for Christmas for him? Why would she put herself through so much trouble just for him…?

_“Because we’re friends, you dork.”_

Adrien dropped his gaze, ruffling his hair, mussing it in his distraction. He stumbled off the sidewalk, blinking rapidly as he made his way into his car. And then he could only sit there and stare at the steering wheel for a moment, a revelation dawning on him so quickly that he was not prepared, only able to register shock—

Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.

He couldn’t be sure, exactly...but the wild racing of his heart, the blush filling his face, the way his chest was constricting, as if it would burst from happiness—

“ _Fuck,_ ” Adrien muttered emphatically, slamming his forehead into the top of his steering wheel and letting out a low groan.

He couldn’t be exactly sure…but he was about ninety-five percent certain that he was in serious trouble now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
> :D
> 
> ~Reyna


	16. Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! Back at it again with another longer-than-necessary chapter!
> 
> I feel like I have to apologize right off the bat, though: I know a lot of you were looking forward to the Dupain-Cheng Christmas...but sadly, I only recap it through Adrien's reflections. I'm sorry! I may write out a fleshed-out version and post it to my writing tumblr, but I just didn't have the energy for it this chapter.
> 
> Something tells me you guys won't have much to complain about after reading this chapter, though... ;D
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

The holidays seemed to pass by in a blur…and yet, at the same time, key moments seemed to stand still, holding Adrien in place for as long as he possibly dared to linger.

He knew what caused the difference, and it was beginning to concern him.

So on the first Wednesday after the holidays, he fled to Ivan’s office, shed his jacket and scarf at the coat rack, and then flopped down onto the shrink couch.

“Bad holiday?” Ivan asked, sounding concerned as Adrien groaned, his face pressed into the couch.

“He’s being a drama queen,” Plagg insisted, escaping from Adrien’s coat, showing the usual lack of care for being discreet, since the cat was already out of the bag as far as Ivan was concerned. “Where’s the cheese, Big Guy?”

Adrien glanced up, dim sparks of amusement and annoyance rolling through him at how damn near casual Ivan was about withdrawing a wheel of camembert from his desk, allowing the kwami to have at it. Glutton.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, cringing at the disgusting display of Plagg stuffing his face with the foul-smelling cheese. “I was already resigned to my fate of forever smelling like a cheese shop a long time ago, but to have you be roped in—”

“I don’t mind,” Ivan assured him, and Adrien noted with some surprise that his therapist actually meant it, watching Plagg with a mix of curiosity and amusement on his face. Huh. What a strange pair of friends they made.

Before long, Ivan’s gaze switched to Adrien.

“So, do you want to talk about it? Your holidays, I mean.”

Ugh. Where did he start?

The aftermath of the Winter Ball had already been confusing enough for him, but when he showed up at the Dupain-Cheng household for Christmas dinner, things got even more bewildering.

Tom and Sabine had been as nice and welcoming as always, of course: as soon as he arrived, Tom had swept him away to change, and Marinette had nearly laughed herself stupid at the sight of him drowning in one of Tom’s large and horrible Christmas sweaters. (The number on the Trouble Meter in his head had cautiously crawled up from ninety-five to ninety-six.)

Then, they had started on the cookies because Tom had wanted them to bake and be ready by the time they finished dinner. Adrien had had no clue what he was doing, and Marinette had hardly been helpful, teasing him and dotting his nose with cookie dough. He had smeared a finger full of dough on her cheek in retaliation, and it had almost become an incident, but Sabine had intervened, and she had put him and Marinette in separate corners to cool off for a while. (Trouble Meter: Ninety-six point five.)

And then dinner happened, with Adrien losing by half a plate to Marinette, but only because he wanted to eat more cookies than her…but his reasoning had fallen on deaf ears as Marinette gloated over her victory for twenty minutes straight. In retribution, he had asked Sabine to tell the “potty dance” story again, and Marinette had refused to speak to him until the cookies were finished, her face so red it put roses to shame. (Trouble Meter: Ninety-seven point five.)

Decorating the cookies had been…embarrassing. Adrien had had no clue over how to work the frosting devices, and he kept missing the cookie he was trying to decorate because he hadn’t been sure how tightly he should squeeze and for how long for what amount of frosting to come out. Marinette, who had apparently decided to take pity on him, had moved over to help him, her hands encircling his so she could show him the correct pressure and position to use on the pastry bag, standing on a stool behind him so she could supervise his work when he tried it on his own. He had been very aware of her presence as he frosted, her body heat like a physical touch, the nerves in his back tingling in a strange way that made him shiver. But it wasn’t until she had leaned forward and spoke into his ear—something about how good a job he was doing or something, he couldn’t remember—that Adrien remembered how _very sensitive_ his ears were, and he jumped and got frosting _everywhere_ , which took a while to clean up, with him red-faced and apologizing profusely to her parents every chance he got, though they had already assured him several times that it was no big deal. And Marinette, as they helped her parents clean, had regarded him with curious blue eyes, eyes he could not afford to meet if he wanted to keep the last of his sanity throughout the night. (Trouble Meter: Ninety-nine.)

But the final nail in Adrien’s future coffin had been hammered into place when they had sat down to watch Christmas movies together, Tom and Sabine on one part of the couch, him and Marinette on the other. Adrien wasn’t sure exactly when he had drifted off to sleep, but when he awoke, it was to find that Sabine and Tom had disappeared, and he and Marinette were swathed in a warm blanket, Marinette’s head resting on his shoulder as she dozed, looking so very peaceful and unguarded and beautiful… (Trouble Meter: He was fucked.)

It had been a struggle to get out of there and go home, because while Adrien had certainly been embarrassed by the circumstances, a part of him—a very _large_ part of him, if he was being honest—hadn’t wanted to leave. It had felt so right being there, joking around with the Dupain-Chengs, eating heaps of Sabine’s cooking, enjoying Tom’s lame dad jokes while Marinette groaned, horsing around with Marinette herself…

It had felt like home.

And for Adrien, for whom the concept of ‘home’ had been shattered a long time ago, the thought of a new definition of the word was both incredibly tempting…and incredibly terrifying.

He had done his best to avoid Marinette for the rest of the holidays, turning down her and Nino’s invitations to Alya’s New Year’s Eve party, making up a work event he didn’t have in order to hide out in his house all evening. It was lonely, but at least he hadn’t felt wrong-footed all night, trying to act normal and not be so aware of Marinette when it seemed like that was quickly becoming impossible—

When he didn’t say anything for a while, Ivan switched tactics.

“Do you just wanna choose a playlist for today?” He asked, turning his computer monitor around. Adrien sighed. Was this backsliding? Maybe. But since his head was still spinning over this seemingly sudden development…

Adrien didn’t pay close enough attention to the playlists; he just chose one at random, turning away to head back to the _chaise_ and sulk—

“ _If there’s a price for rotten judgement_

_I guess I’ve already won that._

_No man is worth the aggravation_

_That’s ancient history_

_Been there, done that!_ ”

Adrien paused as a four part chorus harmony began to play, frowning in concentration. This song…he knew this song…where was it from again…?

“ _No chance, no way,_

_I won’t say it, no, no._

**_You swoon, you sigh_ **

**_Why deny it, uh-oh~_ **

_It’s too cliché,_

_I won’t say I’m in loooove~_ ”

Adrien froze.

That’s right…he hadn’t watched it in ages, but he remembered: this song was from the Disney movie “Hercules”, and it was the big number with the love interest, Meg, who was fervently denying what the Muses and the audience could see quite plainly—

“ ** _You keep on denying_**

**_Who you are and how you’re feeling_ **

**_Baby, we’re not buying_ **

**_Hun, we saw you hit the ceiling—_** ”

Before the chorus could insist that he face it like a grown-up, Adrien whirled around and hastily hit the skip button on the playlist, and a new song began to warble through the room—

“ _Wise men say,_

_‘Only fools rush in’_

_But I can’t help_

_Falling in love with—_ ”

Cursing now, Adrien jammed his thumb into the skip button, but it slipped, accidentally moving the bar that indicated the length of the song at the top of the screen—

“ _And IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII will always love—_ ”

“Gah!” Adrien yelped, and he hit the stop button at last. The music halted, and Adrien, breathing hard, got a good look at the playlist he had chosen without really thinking about it:

The title was “Love”.

Adrien groaned and sank down into the nearest armchair, defeated. To Ivan’s credit, he didn’t laugh at Adrien…but it took a suspiciously long amount of time for him to say something, and he had to start over a couple times, his voice warbling in a telling way as Plagg outright cackled at Adrien’s humiliation.

“Ahem…so, um…is there something on your mind of the…romantic nature, Adrien?”

Adrien let out another strangled sound, his hands over his face. What he wouldn’t give for a hole to just open up in the floor and swallow him up right now…

‘ _Careful what you wish for,_ ’ Joked a playful voice in his mind, one that seemed to have taken residence in his head along with the snide voice of Chat Noir. ‘ _You know it’d suck if an akuma swooped in to make your hasty wish come true. Don’t lose it, dude._ ’

Adrien forced himself to take a deep breath.

Nino, though he wasn’t here, was right—Adrien shouldn’t panic and lose his mind over this. He was a grown man for god’s sake. He could handle this…couldn’t he?

…Well…maybe not. But that was what Ivan was here for, wasn’t it?

Inhaling deeply once more, Adrien dropped his hands, giving Ivan a dejected look.

“I fucked up,” he said oh so eloquently, causing Ivan’s eyebrows to climb higher up his forehead before they met in the middle, crinkling in concern.

“What do you mean?” Ivan asked carefully.

With a grunt, Adrien got to his feet, much too restless to sit still for too long. As he paced, he felt Ivan’s eyes on him, though, as usual, the gentle giant did not push. He merely waited patiently as Adrien gathered his thoughts, pondering how best to approach this new and absurd and terrifying situation he had found himself in…

“So…there’s this…girl,” Adrien began, cringing at how lame he sounded. So much for being a grown man. “And, uh, things have gotten…complicated.”

“I see,” said Ivan, Adrien glancing over to find him getting up, rounding his desk in favor of one of the armchairs in the room. During one of their sessions, Adrien had learned that Ivan didn’t like having a desk between him and his clients when he was helping them work through something; too distant, he had said. The fact that he was moving now had Adrien wondering if he looked as desperate as he felt. “Can I hazard a guess and say that this girl is a certain red and black spotted superhero?”

Oh. Oh man, Adrien hadn’t even been thinking about her lately, so stressed was he about Marinette. Did that mean…he was getting over her…?

‘ _One problem at a time, man,_ ’ Nino’s voice reminded him, and Adrien sighed heavily.

“Well…no,” Adrien replied slowly. He just caught the surprise that flashed across Ivan’s face, and sighed again. Might as well get all this out, now that he had already thoroughly embarrassed himself for the day… “It’s another girl, actually. Ladybug…I’m working to get over her.” Running a frustrated hand through his hair, Adrien grumbled, “But I don’t think _this_ is the correct way to do that. God, I’m an idiot.”

“Hold on,” Ivan requested, frowning in confusion. “So, Ladybug _isn’t_ the ‘complicated’ situation here?”

“No,” Adrien grumbled, moving over to the _chaise_ and flopping face-first down onto it again. “It’s over with Ladybug. She gave me the closure I needed, so I’m trying to move on in a _healthy_ way. But somehow, I fucked up and…god, she doesn’t _deserve_ this! We _just_ became friends again, she _just_ started trusting me again, and all because I’m a sentimental asshole…Alya’s going to _kill_ me!”

“…Oh,” Ivan spoke after a tense silence, in which Adrien had stiffened, realizing his mistake much too late; he had been so focused on not saying _Marinette’s_ name that he hadn’t registered the threat of speaking the name of others involved… “I see.”

His tone implied that he indeed saw the whole situation for what it was. Adrien groaned, pressing his face further into the _chaise_ , folding his arms over his head, as if it would be enough to make his humiliated desire to disappear from sight a reality.

“I’m an asshole,” Adrien repeated. The words were muffled, but they weren’t any less true because of it; they’d been ricocheting around in his brain since Christmas Day, reminding him relentlessly of the sins he was committing by daring to fall for _Marinette._ Marinette! His friend, Marinette, the one who re-introduced him to Ivan the Therapist, the one who got out of bed in the middle of the night to pick him up after a stupid, rage and alcohol-induced bar fight, Marinette, the woman who took no shit from him when he was being a dick, the woman who kissed his cheek under a mistletoe after midnight on Christmas, _Mari._ How could he do this? How could he manage to fuck up the _one good thing_ in his life that had spawned many other good things: his and Nino’s restored friendship, his reform from his twisted view of justice, his reconsidering making a career out of a job he couldn’t stand…she was so wrapped up in so many things in his life, so intricately weaved in the chaos that came with Adrien Agreste…how dare he complicate the situation even further by developing _feelings_ for her?!

“You’re an asshole because you like someone?” Ivan asked, framing the question so that it sounded ridiculous when spoken out loud. Adrien, however, knew the truth, knew that this could not possibly develop any further than it already had. He turned, peering up at Ivan with a bleary eye.

“It’s Marinette, Ivan,” he reminded his therapist with a cringe. “ _Marinette._ ”

Ivan gave a frown.

“You’re clearly very distressed about this,” he commented. Adrien groaned again, rolling over to lie on his back.

“You think?” He quipped, turning to give Ivan a quirked brow, which caused the therapist to smile a little.

“I told you he’s being a drama queen,” Plagg chimed in, zooming over to rest on one of Ivan’s broad shoulders, a piece of camembert between his two little paws. “He’s been acting like a love-sick kitten around her for _weeks_ , but did he listen to _me_ when I called it? Nope. And now, here we are.” Plagg shook his head dismissively at Adrien, annoying him. “You brought this on yourself, Adrien. You should have just listened to me.”

“Shut up, Plagg,” Adrien hissed, and Plagg smirked at him.

“Talk me through this, Adrien, please,” Ivan requested, interrupting the banter between kwami and Chosen. “You’re viewing your developing feelings for Marinette as a bad thing. Why?”

‘Why’? Oh god. Again, where did he even _begin?_

“Because it’s _Marinette!_ ” Adrien burst out, huffing at the look of incomprehension in Ivan’s eyes. “She’s… _wonderful._ She’s smart and sassy and sweet and pretty and she smells nice—”

“See?” Interrupted Plagg with a roll of his eyes. “Love-sick kit—mmrph!”

Ivan, it transpired, learned fast: as soon as Plagg began to antagonize Adrien, the therapist promptly shoved the piece of camembert Plagg was holding into the kwami’s mouth. It wouldn’t keep him occupied for long, sadly, so, taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Ivan waved for Adrien to continue. Slightly amused at the absurdity of this situation, Adrien went on.

“The point is,” Adrien huffed, turning his eyes to the ceiling, “she’s everything any man could ever want. So…what would she want with someone like me?”

“Someone like you?” Ivan quoted, tilting his head to the side. Adrien snorted without amusement.

“You know…” he gestured to himself. “A mess.”

Ivan smiled.

“You’re not a mess, Adrien. You’re just…under construction.”

“Great, so I’m an inconvenient mess,” Adrien grumbled, causing Ivan to laugh.

“That’s not what I meant,” he assured his patient. “I only mean that you’re working on becoming better than you were before. That’s going to take some time and a lot of hard work. Cut yourself some more slack.”

“But that’s exactly my point, Doc: Mari deserves to be with someone who actually _has_ his shit together. Someone who knows what he wants to do with his life, and…” Adrien snorted again, “…and who doesn’t come calling on her unexpectedly in a leather cat suit. God, I’m an idiot…how did I not see this coming…?”

“Because you don’t listen!” Plagg chimed in once again, only to have Ivan shush him.

“So…does Marinette know you’re Chat Noir?”

Adrien’s eyes widened at that.

“No! Oh _god,_ no,” he denied, sitting up so abruptly that he nearly slid off the _chaise_ in his haste to become upright. “If she knew it was me…if she _ever_ found out I was Chat Noir…she would _hate_ me.”

Ivan’s brows drew together once again.

“Is that true? ‘Hate’ is a strong word to use...especially because it’s Marinette we’re talking about, here.”

Adrien frowned. Well…he supposed that was true: Marinette didn’t seem to have a hateful bone in her body, even when it came to people who tried her daily, like Chloe back in school. Besides…hadn’t Marinette already admitted to him that she still believed in Chat Noir…?

‘ _That was before you told her we were turning tail and running from our responsibilities,_ ’ Chat Noir reminded him snidely. ‘ _You really think she’d still hold admiration for a coward?_ ’

‘ _Dude, if you honestly think that, you don’t know ‘Nette_ nearly _as well as you think you do,_ ’ Nino’s voice cut in, ignoring the way Chat Noir hissed at him. Adrien groaned, rubbing his temples. Too many voices, not enough therapy time.

“I don’t know,” Adrien settled for, for the moment. “In any case, I don’t plan on telling her. About Chat…or about my feelings.”

Adrien clenched his fist, staring down at the charm bracelet that now always occupied his right wrist, as if it would be unbearable pain for him to remove it.

“She definitely deserves better,” he said softly. And, though the words caused him misery, he couldn’t fight them—they were true, after all.

“What makes you think she wouldn’t return your feelings?”

Adrien’s head snapped up, and he stared at Ivan in slack-jawed shock. In response, Ivan merely shrugged.

“She had a pretty huge crush on you when we all attended Dupont, remember?”

Oh boy, did he. That fact kept cropping up, unbidden, to Adrien’s thoughts as he lay awake at night, impossible scenarios and imaginings taking over his mind when he was nowhere near sleep, scenarios borne from the most desperate desires of his heart…

Adrien shut those imaginings down, as he always had to, and shook his head fiercely.

“She didn’t really know me back then,” he asserted, scowling at his lap. “She was in love with my image, not me.”

“I see. And how does she react around you now, knowing who you truly are?”

Adrien snorted. That was the uncomfortable bit about it: did anyone _truly_ know him? He led a double-life, after all, and the only two beings to know about it were sitting in this room with him. How could he hope to have a normal relationship with _anyone_ while keeping a secret of this caliber from them? When the random, half-explained disappearances and the mysterious injuries got to be too much…wouldn’t _any_ woman simply leave him?

“She treats me about the same as she would treat any friend,” Adrien replied, smiling in response to the image of a smiling Marinette in his head, her blue eyes twinkling with kindness and mirth. God, she was beautiful…and he was in so much trouble. “Maybe she gives me a little more shit than she would Alya or Nino…but it’s only because I give it right back to her, I guess.”

That’s right—she wasn’t afraid to tell him exactly what she thought of him anymore. The change from teenage Marinette to adult Marinette had been jarring at first, but once Adrien grew used to it, he found himself adoring this new, confident Marinette…adoring her a little _too_ much, in fact…

“Well, if you’re comfortable enough to be so candid with each other, doesn’t it stand to reason that talking about your feelings with Marinette would help you?”

Adrien turned a wide-eyed look onto Ivan.

“Do you want me to die?” He asked him, ignoring the way Ivan blinked in apparent confusion. “Is that what you want? Because lemme tell you: if I try pulling _anything_ with Mari, Alya will _kill_ me.”

“You’ve said that twice now…what makes you so sure this would be Alya’s response if you, uh, ‘tried anything’ with Marinette?”

Adrien gave Ivan a look so deadpan that it would’ve made Marinette proud.

“This is Alya.” When Ivan continued to look curious, Adrien added, “More importantly, this is Alya being protective over Marinette. Her _best friend,_ Marinette.”

Adrien was satisfied when his therapist’s eyes rounded in understanding.

“Oh. Well, uh, that’s…” He coughed. “That’s a…rather difficult situation.”

“So you see my problem. And that’s only the tip of the iceberg.”

Heaving yet another sigh, Adrien flopped back down again, crossing his arms under his head as he started dismally at the ceiling.

“…I don’t know what to do here, Ivan,” he mumbled after a quiet moment. “It’s not like I can avoid Mari—not like I want to, either. But…I’m scared. For eight years, I was so hopelessly in love with Ladybug that it ruined all of the other relationships I’d tried to have with other women. And then, the minute I decide it’s time to move on…here I am again, just with a different woman. I feel like an addict that’s trying to recover by trading one addiction for another…and I don’t want to do that. I don’t want Mari to become a crutch for what I’m too weak to do.”

“Do you feel like you’re using her as a crutch?”

Adrien closed his eyes. He pictured Marinette, in all her loveliness: her dark hair, those cute little freckles that were sprinkled across her nose and cheeks…those blue, blue eyes that seemed to pierce through him and all his pretenses with just a glance…that smile that shaped her plump lips into something tempting, inviting…

His heart thumped unevenly, and he let out a breath.

“…No,” he answered after a moment, keeping his eyes firmly shut. “Whatever this is I’m feeling for her…it’s real. And it’s scary.”

“Why is it scary?”

“Because I don’t want to lose her.”

Slowly, Adrien opened his eyes, moving a hand to rest against his forehead, pushing his hair out of his face.

“…I guess that’s what it boils down to,” he muttered, resignation beginning to seep through him. “I…have feelings for Marinette. But I don’t want to lose her. I don’t dare to run the risk of a relationship if it means losing her as a friend. She means so much to me…I can’t lose her.”

Adrien made himself swallow. His poor, abused heart. How much more could it possibly take?

…But if it came down to breaking his own heart, or possibly breaking Marinette’s…well, the choice was clear, wasn’t it?

“…So you’d rather suffer in silence on this one?”

Adrien turned to look at Ivan. His therapist’s brow was furrowed, clearly concerned about this turn of events. Even Plagg didn’t seem to have anything smart to say; he merely watched his Chosen from the height of Ivan’s shoulder, his green eyes enigmatic.

Adrien forced himself to smile. It was an automatic gesture, and it was not genuine…but what else could he do?

“If it means I get to stay near her without hurting her…then yes,” Adrien answered. He sat up, feeling misery beginning to creep in at this decision…but he was firm on it. Marinette was too important for him to try and complicate a good thing. She wouldn’t be interested, he couldn’t be with her fully while keeping his superhero secret, and she deserved better anyway. Those were the three chains that bound Adrien to his misery, and though he shackled himself in resignation, it was also with the heartening knowledge that Marinette would never be forced to shed another tear over him.

With a sigh, he eyed his watch and stood up.

“Time’s up,” he announced for Ivan, beckoning to Plagg. “Sorry for whining so much today.”

Ivan snorted at that.

“It’s my job to listen to you complain about things,” he reminded Adrien, getting up with a smile as Plagg zoomed across the room to the coat rack, where Adrien’s jacket awaited. The smile faded after a moment, however, and he reached over, a large hand grasping Adrien’s shoulder. “…But are you going to be all right?”

Adrien chuckled weakly at the question.

“No. But that’s what I come visit you for, isn’t it?” Stepping out of Ivan’s grasp, Adrien went to the coat rack, pulling on his Ladybug jacket and his scarf…two things Marinette had made for him, three, if he counted the charm bracelet, though she hadn’t made it specifically for him. It was like he was trying to mark himself with all these gifts she’d given him, and the thought made him blush, tugging at his scarf when he accidentally pulled it a bit too tightly across his throat.

“Ladybug Man…”

Adrien cringed, turning to face Ivan again, who looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“Mari made it for me. It’s a little awkward, considering the circumstances,” Adrien admitted with a sheepish grimace. “…But she made it for me, so—”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Adrien. I get it,” Ivan assured him, smiling now. “See you next week?”

“Yeah,” Adrien sighed, giving Ivan another sheepish look. “Thanks, Ivan. Seriously. You’re awesome.”

Ivan’s face tinted red at the praise, and he rubbed the back of his head with a shy smile.

“I do what I can,” he replied, and Adrien sent him a more genuine smile as he left with a parting wave.

The weather had taken a turn for the worse during the hour Adrien was inside Ivan’s office. Dark storm clouds rolled across the skies, threatening doom and gloom and lots of rain. The heavens trembled, lighting bursting across the sky, followed by a deep rumble of thunder. Adrien stared up at the sky, taken in by the dark beauty such a picture presented. It was as if the weather was trying to echo his mood…that, or Stormy Weather had somehow been turned loose again…

There was a buzzing in his pocket. Adrien withdrew his phone, spotting on his lock screen the dozens and dozens of notifications he was getting, as CEO of Agreste Fashion. There were also a few modeling jobs that required his attention, an e-mail or two from Desiree Trace reminding him that a couple of her students had cancelled their meetings with him today, one sounding like he was suffering from a meltdown of some kind…

Overall, it just looked like a headache to Adrien. Acting on impulse alone, he shut off his phone.

His car waited for him in the parking lot; he ignored it as well, setting off on foot. He didn’t know where he was going, exactly…but maybe he didn’t need a destination. After all, what was the problem if he just…walked…?

The sky rumbled overhead, as if the dark clouds would rip open at any moment and unleash icy, skin-chilling rain upon him for daring to behave so irresponsibly.

Adrien turned his face towards the sky and smiled.

‘ _Bring it on._ ’

 

* * *

 

“Thank you for stopping by!” Marinette called after the couple as they left the bakery. Once they were out of sight, she let her cheery smile drop, and sighed in exhaustion. Running the bakery by herself was hard work, and she had a newfound appreciation for what her parents did, day in and day out. But she was sort of wishing she hadn’t insisted that they go on their day trip to _Quartier Chinois_ while Marinette held down the fort here. True, they had agreed that she could close the bakery earlier than usual, and Marinette had shooed them out the door, insisting that she could handle things here…but man…she had _not_ anticipated the influx of customers at the end of the holidays.

“‘But of _course_ they want our holiday cookies, Marinette!’” Marinette quoted her father, imitating his boisterous manner when he and Sabine had called about half an hour ago, wanting to check on her. “‘It’s the end of the holidays! To keep that depression from setting in, you need some food with Christmas cheer in every bite! That’s why they come to _Boulangerie_ _Patisserie_!’”

Marinette giggled as she restocked the trays that were running dangerously low on pastries. Well, her father wasn’t wrong—twenty minutes to closing time, they were nearly almost out of Christmas cookies. A shame, since Marinette wanted to bag a few to take home…and maybe share with her friends…

Immediately, her mind jumped to Adrien. She hadn’t seen him since Christmas…apparently, he had gotten stupidly busy at work, and he wasn’t even able to make it to Alya’s New Year’s party. That was a shame, in Marinette’s opinion—the poor guy was way too hard on himself. He needed a lot more fun in his life. Hmm…maybe she’d stop by his place with some cookies after all, just to check on him, make sure he was all right, and not overworking himself, and eating right…

‘ _You’re not his mom,_ ’ Marinette chided herself with a shake of her head, using some tongs to rearrange a couple pastries, carefully keeping the heavy bread tray balanced on one hand. ‘ _It’s not like he’s your responsibility, despite Mama constantly asking you about him…_ ’

And yet…not seeing him for a couple days still had her strangely anxious…what was that about…?

The bell over the door chimed, and immediately, Marinette turned with a smile.

“Welcome to _Boulanger_ —eeek!”

The shock of who dared to walk in made Marinette unbalanced; the heavy tray tipped out of her grasp and went crashing to the floor, sending flaky bread everywhere. She couldn’t focus on it, however—she was too busy being frozen in place, her mouth open in outrage, her empty hand finally forming an accusing pointer finger as the other limply held the tongs she’d been using.

“What are _you_ doing here?!” She demanded to know as Felix stepped into the shop, closing a sopping wet umbrella. He quirked a pale eyebrow at her.

“…Buying pastries,” he replied, his tone dry and obnoxious. “This _is_ a bakery, is it not?”

Marinette restrained herself from snarling at him with difficulty; despite her personal feelings about the guy, he was currently a customer…and her parents had raised her to always respect the customer…

With an enormous effort, Marinette managed to put a smile back on her face…even if it was a smile that was plainly warning him to return to the storm from which he came.

“Of course. Please, have a look around. When you’re ready to purchase something, please bring it up to the register, and I’ll ring you up. Please, take your time,” she recited through gritted teeth. Felix’s expression suggested that he found her ridiculous…but what else was new? Marinette waited until he turned his back on her, inspecting the wares, before she dipped down, picking up the heavy tray and scurrying to the back with it. Her heart was pounding hard as she located the broom and dustpan, holding each item like a weapon as she reentered the shop. Felix gave little notice of her, however, as she began to clean up her mess, though she shot his back warning looks every few seconds, as if he would suddenly turn and pounce on her. It just occurred to Marinette how very much alone she was right now, in this shop, with Felix…what was his last name? How had she worked with him for two years and never learned his last name? Well, whatever, it didn’t matter at the moment. What _did_ matter was that Marinette didn’t trust him, and was more than a little wary of him, after overhearing that strange argument he’d had with an unknown entity on Christmas Eve. So, what the hell was he doing here…?

“Are you out of blueberry muffins?” He suddenly asked, his voice cutting through the tension of the room. Marinette hated herself for jumping, nearly upending the dustpan and sending pastries everywhere once again. She straightened up with the pan, sending a frown Felix’s way as she headed for the trashcan behind the counter.

“Oh. Buying for Symone, huh?” She asked as she dumped the tainted pastries into the garbage. As she returned, she stopped just short of Felix, frowning up at him. “What happened to that other pastry shop Symone likes?”

Felix gave a shrug.

“She wanted pastries from here today,” he answered. Marinette narrowed her eyes at him. This could just be her being paranoid…but she could almost swear that—

Felix’s eyebrow quirked again.

“So…out of the fashion business, I see.”

And _there_ it was.

“If you’re here to antagonize me, you can get out right now,” Marinette growled, pointing with the hand that held the broom at the door, where the thunderstorm outside continued to rage. “Go get Symone’s blueberry muffins somewhere else, because I’ll just spit on every one I sell to you.”

Felix’s lips pressed together. Marinette stared at him, her narrowed eyes turning into slits as the corners of his lips twitched.

“Are you _laughing_ at me?!”

“Not at all,” Felix denied with a straight face…but there was something off about his usual cool gaze, something dancing in those ice blue eyes…was that _amusement_? From _Felix_?

Huffing in exasperation, Marinette marched away from him, returning to tidying up the mess she made.

“However,” drawled his voice behind her, and Marinette had to work very, _very_ hard to remind herself that assaulting customers—even aggravating ones—was a no-no, and her parents would _not_ be impressed. “I find it surprising that you’re working in a bakery now, rather than another boutique. It’s like you’ve given up on your dream.”

Welp. There went the last of Marinette’s patience.

“ _First_ of all,” she began, swinging around and aiming the broom handle at his throat, a move Felix regarded with his perpetually raised eyebrow, “don’t talk about my dreams as if you know anything about them. Second of all, while I don’t have to explain _anything_ to you, I will say that this is my parents’ bakery and I’m only helping them out for a while. And third of all, despite _your_ boss blackballing me, I haven’t been beaten yet.” Lowering the broom, Marinette let her free hand rest on her hip as she scowled at Felix. “So you can run back to her and laugh behind my back about my current employment situation, but you won’t break me. I’ve only just started, and leaving that damn boutique was the best decision I could’ve ever made for my career. So, once again, if you’re just here to irritate me, there’s the door.”

Sweeping up the rest of her mess, Marinette stomped over to the counter once again to dump the dustpan and put it and the broom away in its designated corner. When she returned…it was to find that Felix was still in the shop. How annoying.

“We close in ten minutes,” Marinette told him none too gently, folding her arms tightly across her chest as she glared at him. “If you’re actually going to buy anything, do it now.”

Felix regarded her for a long, silent moment…and then he moved away from the shelves, approaching the counter. Marinette swallowed, but she stood her ground as he loomed over her, grateful for the counter between them. God, what was with all these tall, blonde men around her? This was not okay.

“Symone sent me here to offer you your job back,” Felix announced after a tense moment. Marinette gaped up at him for a second, her eyes narrowing again.

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. While I have no proof…it’s probably true that she’s blackballing you. But since winter has come and gone, her unfinished winter line has tanked, and she needs new ideas. She’s offering you a raise and your own office if you return to _Tres Bien_.”

While that would have been tempting, once upon a time, now, Marinette merely regarded Felix with a mistrusting gaze.

“And, what? She’ll try and bleed me dry for a spring line while taking all the credit?” Marinette shook her head. “No thank you. Normally, I’d tell you to tell her where she can put her raise…but I’m still on the clock, so I’ll just thank you to leave.”

Felix didn’t move, his face impassive as he stared down at her.

“Symone won’t be happy about your refusal.”

“I don’t care,” Marinette replied, scowling. “I’m _way_ past caring what Symone thinks at this point. And frankly, I don’t see why you put up with her, Felix.” Her scowl turned thoughtful as she inspected him. Sure, right now, she didn’t trust him, and he gave her bad vibes…but once upon a time… “You seem way too smart to be working as someone’s assistant. Don’t you think it’s a waste?” Marinette pursed her lips. “I think you could’ve done a lot better for yourself. Hell, before all this happened, you and I might’ve even been friends.”

Felix stared down at her…and then abruptly, his face split into the first smile Marinette had ever seen on him. It was a sarcastic smile, to be sure…but the shock of seeing _any_ expression on him other than his straight face had Marinette gaping at him in shock.

“I doubt it,” he replied, leaning forward so that his face was waaay too close to Marinette’s. She stared at him, wide eyes taking in his cool blue gaze. “I wouldn’t be a very good friend to you, Marinette. You’d only regret it.”

‘ _Danger_ ,’ her mind warned her needlessly. Reacting automatically, she pushed his face out of her space with a finger to his forehead. He blinked at this, seeming surprised before his poker face fell back into place, and Marinette frowned at him.

“Well, I guess we’ll never know now,” she replied before pointing at the clock. “It’s closing time. Goodbye, Felix.”

Felix lifted and dropped a shoulder, turning from her.

“Goodbye, Marinette. I’m sure I’ll run into you again soon.”

“I really hope not,” she told him point blank. A corner of Felix’s mouth twitched suspiciously once again, but he said nothing more, pausing only to retrieve his umbrella before he exited out into the storm outside. Marinette waited for about three minutes after he was gone before she marched across the shop, locking the door and turning the sign over from ‘OPEN’ to ‘CLOSED’, relief in the breath that escaped her. Well, _that_ had been an ordeal…

“Are you okay, Marinette?” Tikki wanted to know, popping out from one of the pigtails Marinette chose to wear today, for nostalgia’s sake. Marinette sighed, and then nodded.

“Yeah. Dealing with Felix was annoying, but…” Folding her hands together, Marinette briefly leaned against the bakery door, frowning at the floor. “…Tikki? Can I ask you something that might sound crazy?”

“Sure, Marinette.”

Marinette took a deep breath. Here goes nothing…

“Do you think Felix could be Chat Noir?”

She glanced over at her kwami, just able to see her from her peripheral vision. Tikki had her eyes closed, her tiny features fixed into a frown of concentration. After a long moment, her large, indigo eyes opened, and she fixed Marinette with a perturbed look.

“…I don’t know,” she admitted. “There _is_ something strange about him…but I can’t really tell what it is. It’s like something about him is blocking my senses. It’s very strange.”

Marinette frowned, swallowing now. That had been her easier question…but since the answer hadn’t been definitive…

“…Then do you think he could be The Butterfly?”

“I don’t know, Marinette,” Tikki repeated, her eyes large and worried. “But whatever he is, I think you should just leave him alone.”

“Ugh, I’m _trying_ to,” Marinette grumped as she went around the bakery, preparing to close up shop for the day. As she swiped the last of the holiday cookies, she fed one to Tikki with a pout on her face. “It’s _him_ who won’t leave _me_ alone.”

“On Symone’s orders, too,” Tikki added, swallowing a bite of her cookie before she scowled. “She has some nerve, asking you back now!”

“I know, right? Like _that_ would ever happen. I’d bet on hell freezing over first,” Marinette said dryly, and Tikki giggled.

Closing the bakery for the day took about ten minutes. By the time Marinette was ready to go, the storm had let up, but only just, the rain still falling, though not cascading as it had been all afternoon. Marinette peeked out the window, frowning at the clouds. She was willing to bet that this was as good as it was going to get; if she was going to walk back to her apartment, it might as well be now.

Grabbing her black, nondescript umbrella, save for the initials A.A. carved into the bottom of the handle, Marinette bundled herself up, made sure Tikki would be dry in her coat pocket, and stepped out into the rain, locking up her parents’ house behind her before she set off down the street, avoiding the larger puddles of water in her haste to get back home. As tempting as it was to wait out the storm at her parents’ house, Marinette had some work to do, since she had just started working on the bee outfit of her spring line. She had also been playing with the idea of a turtle outfit, now that Wayzz was safe in Nino’s hands…but since it was crunch time now, she had to focus on what she already had before she went on adding designs that weren’t necessarily needed…and she _still_ had yet to settle on a design for Ladybug…

Marinette promptly became lost in her designer thoughts, surfacing only when she noticed a figure in the distance, staring up at a building that had been abandoned for seven years…a figure in a red and black jacket…

Marinette blinked. What in the world was he doing out here?

“Adrien…?”

 

* * *

 

Adrien didn’t know how long he stood here, staring up at his childhood home. The cold look to it was nothing new, but now that he was on the outside looking in, it felt rather strange to just be staring at it and not going in. Not that he wanted to…the place had the obvious look of neglect; ivy was climbing the walls outside, and the large, imposing gates out front were probably rusted shut from disuse. Adrien had no idea why he had chosen to come here and stare up at a place with so many miserable memories…but somehow, he couldn’t pull himself away, either. Why?

“Adrien…?”

The sound of his name startled him, though he was slow to react; he turned to his left, blinking when he found no one there, and then turned to his right—

His heart threw itself against his ribcage, almost in audible surprise and pleasure when he spotted Marinette just a couple meters away, staring at him. Self-consciously, he reached up to smooth his hair…only to find that it was plastered to his head from the rain. Oh, right.

“What are you doing out here without an umbrella?” Marinette questioned as she moved closer to him. Adrien was privately amused as he got a good look at her and spotted her hair in pigtails—just like old times. And the umbrella she held was vaguely familiar…but no, it couldn’t be…

As she lifted it high enough to encompass his height, Adrien got a good look at the bottom of the handle. The initials A.A. stared in him the face. Adrien blinked at the letters, surprise coursing through his otherwise numb body.

She still had it? Even after all this time…?

A touch to his cheek jolted him out of his own thoughts, bringing his attention back to Marinette, who was staring up at him in obvious concern.

“You’re freezing!” She exclaimed, and Adrien blinked, his brain moving a little sluggishly, now that she was here. Her touch was searing on his cheek, but he didn’t dare move away from her. “How long have you been standing out here in the pouring rain?!”

“…I don’t know,” Adrien admitted, becoming sheepish when Marinette gaped up at him. “I’ve just been kind of…wandering around…”

“In the _rain?!_ Are you crazy?! You’ll get sick!”

Huffing, Marinette took hold of his wrist and tugged him after her.

“Come on. We have to get you into dry clothes, now.”

“My place is the other way…”

“Who said anything about your place? My apartment is closer,” Marinette told him, tugging on his arm to make him keep pace with her so she could hold the umbrella over both of them, despite the fact that he was already wet. Adrien didn’t bother paying attention to where they were going, content to stare down at Marinette instead. She seemed to always pop up when he was in need, didn’t she…?

“Are you gonna make me wear your clothes, Mari?” He asked, smiling a little at the ridiculous thought. Marinette glanced over at him, eyeing him up and down.

“Yes,” she replied without hesitation, causing Adrien’s smile to drop. “At least until _your_ clothes dry.”

“You probably don’t have anything that’ll fit me…”

“You’ll live,” Marinette answered him with a dry look, picking up the pace, her hand firm on his wrist. “Hurry up. You’re shivering.”

Was he? Huh. He was currently so detached from his body that he couldn’t really tell.

In no time at all, they reached Marinette’s apartment. She made him hold the umbrella as she fished out her key, unlocking the door and yanking him inside once it was open.

“Your floor…” Adrien protested, cringing at the puddle he immediately made when he stepped onto the hardwood floor. Wow, he was making such a pest of himself, wasn’t he?

Marinette waved off his concerns with an impatient hand.

“Who cares?” She huffed, taking hold of his wrist again and pulling him further into the apartment, into a room he had previously never seen: the laundry room. “We need to get you out of those clothes.”

“Can’t wait to get me naked?” Adrien said before he could stop himself, immediately turning pale when the words registered in his mind. Oh _god,_ did he wish he could bite down on his tongue with enough force to chop it in half…

Marinette’s back was to him, so he couldn’t see her face, but he rather thought the tops of her ears had turned pink.

“Ha ha,” she drawled, rummaging around in a cabinet of some sort as she waved Adrien away. “Take off your jacket and your scarf and leave them on the washing machine; I’ll hang them up later.”

Adrien did as he was told, though the two simple tasks took a bit longer than they usually would; his fingers were numb and useless from the cold, and once he had his jacket off, he finally registered that he _was_ freezing. His jaw rattled, but when he clenched it shut, his spine shivered, and he curled his arms around himself, hating life. Why on _earth_ had he thought it would be a good idea to wander around in the rain all day?

“Why on _earth_ were you just out wandering around in the rain?” Marinette echoed his thoughts, suddenly behind him. Adrien turned to find her shaking her head, pushing him back so that he perched awkwardly on the washing machine as she threw a towel over his head, beginning to rub his hair and face dry. “It’s _January,_ you know! You could catch pneumonia with this kind of behavior! I don’t know what was going through your head, but I hope you’ll think twice the next time you…you…”

Marinette trailed off, staring up at him, her hands resting on the sides of his head, the towel in between her skin and his hair. Adrien stared back, taking in all the worry those blue eyes offered him, lips pursed in disapproval…when Marinette’s face suddenly flushed pink. He blinked, trying to identify the reason for the change as she stared at him. What? Did he have something on his face? Was he, perhaps, staring too intently at her to be allowed?

Letting out a slow sigh, Marinette’s hands began to trail from his head, the action causing Adrien to shiver, thought its meaning was lost, since his body was already trembling.

“…But I shouldn’t be scolding you like I’m your mother,” Marinette finished in an embarrassed voice, glancing away from him, the heat from her hands seeping from him as she began to pull away. “You’re a grown man, you don’t need my help to dry off or—”

Adrien caught one of her wrists before she could draw away from him completely.

“I don’t mind,” he said softly, keeping her gaze. And he truly didn’t—the berating made it clear that she was concerned about his well-being, and he _had_ been stupid to wander about in the rain without an umbrella…and her rubbing his hair dry felt really, really good…

Marinette’s face flushed further, but before Adrien could figure out why, she pulled the towel over his face with her free hand.

“Well I do,” she replied, though there was a hint of playfulness underneath her exasperated tone. “I’m gonna step outside so you can strip—uh, I mean, u-undress…j-just leave your clothes in the dryer and I’ll, uh, take you upstairs—so you can use my shower! That’s it! Just to shower! Um, make sure you wrap a towel around yourself, and then I’ll, uh, show you where it is. Yeah. So, I’ll just, um…”

Adrien peeked out from under the towel just in time to see Marinette fleeing the room, slamming the door shut behind her. Huh…becoming flustered at the thought of him being nude…?

Adrien endeavored to squash the swell of hope he could feel bubbling within him at such a reaction. It didn’t mean anything that Marinette might be embarrassed at the thought of him being naked; maybe she’d be embarrassed at the thought of _any_ man naked in this situation…not that she’d probably _never_ seen a man naked…she had probably conquered that territory, as beautiful as she was. Adrien couldn’t imagine any man that she decided to go to bed with would be unwilling—

‘ _Swerving, dude,_ ’ Nino’s voice chided him, and Adrien shook his head. Right—now was not the time for such thoughts. He was freezing; he had to get warm fast to get rid of these aching shivers.

There was a muffled scuffling from under him, and Adrien hastily jumped up, allowing Plagg to escape the confines of his soaked jacket. The kwami shivered, glaring up at Adrien.

“What the _hell_ were you thinking?!”

“Plagg, shhh!” Adrien hushed the kwami, trying to make a grab for him. Plagg ‘tch’ed and flew out of his reach, scowling at him through narrowed cat eyes.

“The next time you choose to wander aimlessly in bad weather, kindly leave _me_ at home! I would rather _not_ freeze to death, thank you very much!”

“Plagg—!”

The kwami ignored him, zooming away, into the vent leading out of the laundry room. Adrien gaped up at the vent, a feeling of dread stealing over him. Surely Plagg, no matter how pissed he was at Adrien, knew to stay out of sight and out of trouble when he and Adrien were guests in someone else’s house, right? He wouldn’t cause mayhem just to spite Adrien…would he?

Gulping, it was a moment before Adrien remembered he was cold and had to get a move on, because Marinette was probably waiting for him. Ironically enough, removing his wet clothes was torture; his slick, bare skin screamed in protest when exposed to the chilly air of the laundry room, and Adrien grit his teeth, forcing himself to remove every stitch of clothing before he followed Marinette’s instructions and flung the sopping mess into the dryer, leaving his shoes on the floor. Though he knew how to do his own laundry at this point, Marinette’s dryer was a different model, and had a lot more words and knobs than he was used to. Feeling like a helpless child, Adrien let the machine be, wrapping a towel securely around himself, and adding another to clutch around his shoulders as he shivered. God, he was cold. It would be a miracle if he didn’t wake up with a fever tomorrow. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Adrien exited the laundry room, keeping an eye out for Plagg, but he only found Marinette mopping up the mess he’d made of her hallway floor. She paused her movements when she heard him approach, though she did not turn to meet him, choosing instead to lean her mop carefully against her front door.

“Come on,” she said to him, face still turned resolutely away as she marched up the stairs, her arms folded in front of her. Torn between chagrin and amusement, Adrien followed her.

Her room was a mess: fabric was _everywhere_ , her work desk littered with what looked like masks for her outfits, and a couple dressmaking dummies sat in a corner, outfitted with her works in progress. Adrien stared curiously, wanting to get a closer look, but the clearing of Marinette’s throat had him snapping to attention, cringing in apology…though she still wasn’t looking at him.

“The bathroom’s there,” she announced, still facing away from him as she waved at the only other door up there. “In the shower, the right knob is hot water, and the left knob is cold water. You can use what you need in there. I’ll leave you the biggest clothes I can find on my bed when you’re done. And _don’t go nosing through my stuff._ I’m covering everything with a sheet, and I’ll know if you peek, got it?”

Though this warning would have been more effective with her glaring at him, her tone was strict enough for Adrien to decide not to test her, despite how curious he was.

“Got it,” he replied, moving to the bathroom. Over the click of the door closing, he could hear her sigh in relief, and he suppressed a smile.

A glance to the mirror almost made Adrien’s heart stop: he had _Chat hair._ He hastily fixed his locks before he realized it was unimportant, since Marinette hadn’t looked at him once since leaving the laundry room. Whew…talk about a close one. That was _not_ a conversation he would have liked to have while freezing several of his body parts off in nothing but a couple towels…though there was still the threat of Plagg floating around, though he had hopefully just taken refuge somewhere warm for a while.

Despite the protests of his freezing skin, Adrien made himself drop the towels, turning the right knob on full force and the left knob on half way before he stepped into the tub, musing over the last time he’d been here, forced to endure Marinette’s aid as she sewed up a wound that would disappear as soon as Ladybug used her restorative powers…well, it was the thought that counted, wasn’t it?

The water was _too damn hot_. Adrien bit back a yowl of protest and fumbled for the left knob, waiting until the water cooled to a more tolerable temperature before he dared to mess with the hot water again, the shivers wracking his body leaving him little by little as he stood under the warm spray, closing his eyes as rivers poured down from his head and trailed down his skin. He had seen quite enough water for one day, he thought, but the blessed warmth was too much to resist, and so he lingered longer than he normally would have before remembering that Marinette had given him permission to use what he needed in her shower. Turning, he found her bathing products lined up neatly, noting with amusement that nearly all of them were strawberry scented. Fitting.

Because he was vain about his hair, Adrien started there, carefully washing and conditioning it before he took up the bar of soap and scrubbed himself clean, feeling as pampered by these products as he would be with his brand-name stuff at home. But perhaps that was just because he knew they were Marinette’s things…Marinette, who used this bathtub daily…she used this shampoo to wash her hair…this bar of soap dragged across her skin once a day…

‘ ** _Dude,_** ’ Nino’s voice forcefully intruded, dragging Adrien’s mind from the gutter. Flushing, he shook his head, as if to scatter such thoughts from it. Nino was right—he had no place thinking about those kinds of things. Really, how immature of him—he wasn’t some hormonal sixteen year old staying the night at his girlfriend’s place for the first time or something…he needed to get a grip.

Still shaking his head at himself, Adrien shut off the shower and stepped out, hastily drying himself off. He wiped a clear patch into the foggy mirror and frowned at his reflection. What was he supposed to do about his hair? He doubted Marinette had hair gel…her hair always seemed effortlessly flawless…

Pursing his lips, Adrien’s gaze searched the products on the bathroom counter, relieved when he spotted a box of hair ties open and waiting. Even better, there were a couple hair clips sitting right next to it—everything he could need to keep his hair from getting out of control. Eagerly, he reached forward…but then paused, uncertainty invading his thoughts. Did this count as nosing through her stuff…?

‘ _She said I could use what I needed in here,_ ’ Adrien reminded himself, and though guilt nipped at him, he claimed one of the hair ties and clips for himself, tying back his damp hair before clipping his bangs off to the side. There: no risk of Chat hair now. Barring any Plagg shenanigans, his secret was safe.

Carefully, Adrien poked his head out of the bathroom, cringing at the cooler air outside of the steamy room he was reluctant to leave. Marinette was nowhere to be found, but nevertheless, he cautiously left the sanctuary of the bathroom, shivering again and hating it. But once he took a good look at the clothes Marinette had laid out for him, he almost decided to stay in the towel he was wearing. She couldn’t be serious, could she…?

Adrien desperately searched her bed for other clothes that would be more suitable…but no such luck. The clothes he was looking at were the clothes she had chosen for him…because, apparently, it was her express desire to humiliate him. Great.

Adrien thought about peeking under the sheets that covered her designs from view in retribution as he reluctantly donned the borrowed clothes…but fear over what she might do to him overrode his current exasperation with her. Still, it was hard to make himself leave her room, to go downstairs and face her in this ridiculous get-up…

She was in the kitchen, fussing over something in a pot that smelled amazing. Adrien took note of the fact that she had changed into more comfortable looking clothes: black sweatpants and a gray, form-fitting t-shirt. Normally, that would have distracted him for longer than he would have liked…but considering the current circumstances…

“I hope you like soup,” she said when she heard him approach, thanks to the creaking of the floorboards underneath his weight. “I don’t have much lying around right now—I haven’t had time to get to the grocery store—so this is all I’ve—”

She cut off as soon as she turned to face him, her blue eyes widening as she took in the pink, fuzzy pajama bottoms that were littered with white stars and stopped about mid-calf on him, and of course, the _piece de resistance_ , the large white t-shirt—large on her, probably, but it was a medium on Adrien—that read ‘Hot Chick’ in bold, hot pink letters. Adrien stared in resignation as her cheeks bulged, a hand flying to her mouth in attempt to smother her laughter. But there was no holding back the mirth, it appeared, and she burst out laughing, a hand clutching at her stomach as her free hand gripped the counter, struggling to remain upright as hilarity consumed her.

“Not funny,” he said dryly as Marinette worked to wipe tears from her eyes. “If you breathe one word of this to Alya or Nino—”

“What, that you’re a hot chick?” Marinette joked with a wide grin. “I don’t think that’s much of a secret, Adrien.”

Oh, she was going to milk this for all it was worth, wasn’t she?

Well, when in Rome…

In response, Adrien pretended to flip his hair in an exaggerated fashion, posing expertly against the doorway of the kitchen.

“Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful,” he drawled, quirking a brow at Marinette, who burst into laughter once again, this laughing fit a little more subdued than the previous one. “So, on an unrelated note…when will my clothes be dry again?”

“Ah…” Slowly, the laughter died from Marinette’s face, replaced by a cringe. Adrien was sad to see the amusement leave…even if it was at his expense. “Well…that depends.”

Higher climbed Adrien’s eyebrow as he stared at her, straightening up.

“On?”

“My dryer.” She turned from him, stirring the soup on the stove, frowning into its bubbling depths. “It’s a bit of a clunker, the only flaw this place has. It takes forever to dry clothes that are damp, but since yours were _soaked_ …” She glanced over, apologies in her gaze. “It could take a while.”

“Can I have an estimate?”

“At best? An hour. At worst?” She cringed again. “Three.”

Adrien frowned at that.

“You need a better dryer, Mari.”

“I know, but go find the cash for it.” She huffed and shook her head. “Sorry. As soon as I’m done with the soup, I’ll check on them, but it could take a while…I hope you didn’t have anything important to do today…” She shot him an appraising glance. “…Though, since I found you wandering around in the rain, I’m gonna guess not.”

Adrien flushed, scuffing his toe awkwardly on the kitchen floor as he rubbed the back of his neck. It wasn’t as if he _didn’t_ have anything important to do…he just didn’t feel like doing any of them today. Who actually _enjoyed_ having responsibilities, anyway?

“Soup’s ready,” Marinette announced after a quiet moment. She hoisted the large pot off the hot stove with just a small grunt of effort, waving a hand to the tiny table in the kitchen. “Have a seat.”

Adrien did as he was told, trying not to shift too uncomfortably in his seat. The clothes were interesting enough, but pair the fuzzy pajama pants with the fact that he wasn’t wearing underwear, and Adrien was put in a very interesting situation indeed…

‘ _Don’t think about it,_ ’ he cautioned himself, turning his attention to the hot bowl of soup Marinette ladled out for him. It was hard not to dig in immediately, the smell of onions and dumplings putting him in a haze. When Marinette set out a loaf of bread to accompany the soup, he felt his will break. Tearing off a chunk of the bread, he dunked it into his bowl a few times before eagerly taking a bite. The soup was hot, and he might have seared the roof of his mouth, but he didn’t care—it was warm and delicious and all he wanted at the moment.

“Mmm. Good,” he mumbled around his mouthful, nodding in approval as Marinette sat down across from him. “You could give Sabine a run for her money.”

Marinette smiled at that, and Adrien was momentarily distracted by it.

“I learned from the best,” she replied, taking up her spoon and dunking it into the soup. Adrien quite forgot about the bread hovering in front of his face as he watched her shape her lips carefully to blow daintily across the spoonful of soup, cooling it off before she popped it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Once he realized he was staring, he hastily pulled his gaze from her, shoving more bread into his mouth. He had never so desperately wished that he was wearing underwear before in his _life._

“…So?”

Adrien snapped to attention, blinking at the expectant look on Marinette’s face. Shit—had she been talking while he was distracted? Fuck, he totally missed it. He was an asshole.

“Hm?” He hummed, stalling for time by chewing a large chunk of soup-soaked bread. Marinette pursed her lips at him.

“Are you going to tell me what you were doing standing outside of your old house in the rain?”

Adrien swallowed hastily. Oh, right. That happened…

“…I honestly don’t know,” he admitted, frowning a bit as he tried to recall his thought process. “I just know that I wanted to go for a walk…and somehow, I just kind of…walked there. Unconsciously.”

And he had stood there, staring up at the once imposing building for who knows how long before Marinette found him. That kind of behavior wasn’t normal, and so he didn’t begrudge Marinette for frowning in concern at him. It _did_ surprise him, however, when her hand closed the distance between them, slipping over the back of his hand as it lay flat on the table. His nerves came alive with her touch, the contact heating his skin, and he had to sternly remind himself to keep in check. It meant nothing, she was just comforting him, it meant nothing, calm down, it _meant nothing—_

“Are you all right?”

The question confused Adrien. Was his inner battle obvious on his face? Or did she mean the question to be a general one? He honestly couldn’t tell…but after a moment, he decided it would be safer to treat it like a general question.

And so he shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess.” He did nothing to shake off Marinette’s touch, staring down at her hand. “Just dealing with some stuff…”

“About your father?”

Amazingly, for the first time in years, his father was not the one wreaking havoc on his psyche at the moment.

Adrien glanced up, wondering what Marinette would say, with her wide blue eyes and scrunched up brow, if he dared to admit that _she_ was the reason he was so out of sorts lately. Would that amuse her? Horrify her? What would she say if he dared to speak the forbidden words he had already resolved to never admit to her?

Her frown was bothering him. Adrien set down his bread to smooth out the crease between her brows with his thumb. She blinked at this, apparently startled, and Adrien smiled at her.

“Smile, Mari. It suits you better,” he encouraged. Marinette gave a short huff, drawing her hand back from him. Inwardly, Adrien lamented the loss of her touch, but he quelled the rebellion sternly. He would not behave like a spoiled child over this…she was not his to have…

“I can’t smile when there’s nothing to smile about.” She sent a pointed look his way, and he gave her an apologetic look. “Seriously, I’m worried. To just go walking around in freezing rain is—”

“Stupid, I know,” Adrien finished for her, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as he finished off his piece of bread and reached for another. “It won’t happen again, Mari. Today’s just been an off day.”

Marinette chewed on her bottom lip, inspecting him. He wished she wouldn’t—it wasn’t her fault, of course, but it was enough that he was just distracted by her presence alone. For her to do such suggestive things was threatening to wreck him.

“Well, okay,” she conceded, picking up her spoon again. “But you know you can talk to me, right? About anything?”

Adrien almost snorted. "Anything", huh? That might be debatable, but...

“I know,” he assured her, swirling a chunk of bread around in his soup as he smiled up at her. “But I’ve already spent an hour talking about my issues today with Ivan. Do you mind if we focus on more cheerful topics?”

“Oh, right,” muttered Marinette, biting her lip again, as if she thought she was overstepping boundaries. “Um, so…how was your New Years?”

Ah, right. The New Year's work event he didn't have, contrary to the lie he had told to get out of a couple party invitations...

Adrien made himself shrug, busying himself with his soup.

“Nothing to report,” he replied. Quickly, before Marinette could press for details, he turned the question around on her. “Yours?”

“The usual,” Marinette replied with a roll of her eyes and a good-natured shake of her head. “Nino and Alya made a spectacle of themselves by sloppily making out right as the clock struck midnight. I had to get people out of there pretty fast after that, because it didn’t seem like they’d be cooling off anytime soon.”

Oh dear. Adrien muffled a snort at the shamelessness of his and Marinette’s best friends.

“Sounds fun…who did you kiss?”

The question was out before he even completely registered the fact that _it was an inappropriate question to ask._ The urge to smack himself was unreal; what was _wrong_ with him?!

Before he could dissolve into a panicked mess, however, Marinette shrugged and answered his question.

“Nathanael.”

Adrien stared at her.

“…Nathanael Kurtzberg?”

“Yeah.”

“Nathanael Kurtzberg, the guy who had a crush on you while we all went to Dupont?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at him, looking amused.

“I don’t know if I’d define him that way, but sure, if that helps you remember.” She rested her spoon thoughtfully against her bottom lip. “I dated him for a while.”

Thunder boomed overhead, as if to echo Adrien’s mood at learning such information. As Marinette peered worriedly up at the ceiling, Adrien worked to master the unreasonable jealousy he could feel flaring within him. So what if she had dated Nathanael, once upon a time? Clearly things hadn’t worked out if she wasn’t seeing him anymore…

…So then, why had she kissed him at New Years…?

“Thinking about rekindling an old flame?” Adrien asked as casually as he could, making himself relax physically to illustrate just how much this information did not matter to him. It was painful relief when Marinette laughed at him, as if he was being ridiculous.

“Uh, yeah, let me do that with all that free time I definitely have,” she teased, and Adrien laughed along with her, hoping he didn’t sound too pleased. It was stupid for him to feel this way—he should wish Marinette happiness with whomever she chose, even if it wasn’t him.

 _Especially_ if it wasn’t him.

“Besides,” she continued, and Adrien’s ears pricked up, as if sensing trouble, “we want different things, me and Nath. But we’re still friends, and since we were the only two single people at the party, when midnight hit, it just made sense for us to kiss.”

“Ah.” Adrien bobbed his head, swallowing the sting of disappointment. He couldn’t help but wonder just how differently that New Year’s kiss might have turned out, if he had sucked it up and went when Marinette and Nino had invited him…

It was a moment before he recognized Marinette’s curious gaze as she turned her attention onto him once again.

“Who did _you_ end up kissing at New Years’?” She asked, her tone teasing…and yet, there was genuine interest in her eyes, as if it mattered who Adrien might or might not have kissed into the new year…

He was immediately grateful that there was no gossip to be shared on this front.

“No one.”

Marinette gaped at him.

“ _No one?_ Not even Chloe?”

Adrien made a face.

“Especially not Chloe,” he sighed, ever-thankful for _that_ , at least.

“No one wanted to kiss you when the clock struck twelve?”

Marinette’s expression was doubting, as if she suspected him of lying to her. To avoid doing just that, Adrien decided to tease her instead.

“Well, I don’t really think anyone else could dip me like you, Mari.” He winked, and she blushed. “That’s the only way I’ll accept kisses now. You’ve spoiled me for other women.”

“Yeah right,” Marinette laughed, though Adrien was distinctly pleased to note that the blush refused to leave her face as she got up to put her soup bowl in the sink. Her apparent lack of appetite distracted Adrien.

“Done already?”

“I’m trying to ration the soup until I can get to a grocery store,” Marinette explained with a cringe thrown over her shoulder. “Sorry I’m not better prepared, but I wasn’t exactly expecting company.”

“I don’t mind,” Adrien assured her, getting up with his bowl as well. “Here, lemme clean up.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I’ve already caused you enough trouble for one day,” Adrien insisted, snatching the sponge away before Marinette could grab it. “Let me start repaying you.”

Marinette frowned up at him, lower lip jutting out in a pout.

“You’re not a burden, Adrien,” she reminded him quietly. And Adrien, though his relief was immense at such words, merely grinned at her.

“I know.” He playfully knocked his hip into hers, nudging her away from the sink as he turned on the faucet. “I’m only being so nice so you won’t take pictures of me in this get-up and use it as blackmail.”

Marinette blinked in surprise…and then a sneaky grin crossed her features.

Adrien swore.

“…You weren’t even thinking about doing that, were you?”

“Nope,” Marinette replied, her grin widening. Adrien noticed right away when her hand began to creep along the counter, to the pink phone that waited just next to the refrigerator. “But now that you’ve put the idea in my head…”

Adrien scowled, withdrawing his hands from the faucet and scowling in warning at her.

“Don’t you dare,” he cautioned. Marinette grinned her widest grin yet…and then turned and lunged for the phone. Adrien anticipated her movements, however, and flew at her just as her fingertips brushed her phone. Grabbing her around the middle, Adrien lifted, smirking at the squeak of surprise that escaped her as her feet left the floor.

“Adrien!” She protested, writhing in his grasp until she was facing him, scowling down at him as he grinned up at her. “Put me down!”

“But if I put you down, you’ll take embarrassing pictures of me,” he pointed out, pouting for good measure. “Imagine my shame if those went viral on the internet.”

Marinette rolled her eyes at him, folding her arms and resting them against his collar bone as she frowned down at him.

“ _If_ I took such pictures, I’d only send them to Alya and Nino. You really think I’d put them up on the internet so the world can see what a dork you are?”

“I think you mean hot chick,” he reminded her, and Marinette’s teeth found her bottom lip again as she bit back a smile. “And you really think _Alya_ wouldn’t put them up online?”

Marinette pursed her lips as she frowned down at him. Adrien could practically see the gears in her head turning, trying to find a way around his logic. Her huff of defeat was relieving.

“Okay, okay, fine. No pictures,” she relented, though she didn’t look happy about it. Adrien eyed her carefully, admittedly not in any hurry to put her down. She was very soft and warm…but this was inappropriate. He should probably end the joke now, while she still found it funny.

“You promise?” He teased her one last time as he began to lower her.

Unfortunately for him, Marinette chose that moment to lower her head so that their foreheads were nearly touching, her gaze strong and head-on as she smirked down at him.

“You don’t trust me?” She asked, feigning a hurt expression for a moment before that mischievous smile returned, blue eyes glinting with laughter. She was so close that he could feel her breath on his lips…

Adrien’s arms flexed around her. He had to put her down now. He _had_ to, before he did something stupid—

“I do,” he replied, quiet and serious. The abrupt change in mood appeared to startle Marinette; he saw her swallow, her gaze dropping once before she glanced up to meet his eyes again, her face turning pink. Adrien blushed in response, once again made aware of how _little_ space there was between them…

“Well…good,” Marinette answered, though now she sounded breathless. There was a moment in which they just stared at each other, a moment in which Adrien found himself lost in those endless blue eyes, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest, the need to be closer to her racing through his blood—

“A-Adrien?”

Adrien snapped out of it, blinking rapidly. Now Marinette’s face was completely red, and she was looking away from him, clearly uncomfortable. Swearing inwardly, he put her down at last, raising his hands a moment later to show that he meant no harm.

“Sorry,” he apologized, about as mortified as Marinette herself looked. To her credit, she tried to laugh it off, though Adrien noticed the self-conscious way she held herself, her step back from him, as if he would eat her if she dared to stay too close.

“No problem, ha ha…um, I’ll go, uh, check on your clothes.”

“Thanks,” he said, barely getting the word out as he watched Marinette flee the kitchen in favor of the laundry room. Inwardly flogging himself, Adrien turned to the two bowls and spoons in the sink, accidentally turning the faucet on too high and getting water everywhere before he could get it under control. God, he was such a mess right now. And he _really_ shouldn’t have been messing around with Marinette like that; now he’d made her uncomfortable in her _own apartment_ , a place that was supposed to be safe for her. What the fuck was wrong with him?

‘ _Take it easy, man,_ ’ Nino’s voice cautioned him, and Adrien closed his eyes, imagining his best friend was there, a comforting pat going to his shoulder. ‘ _Soon your clothes will be dry, and you can go home. You can behave yourself until then, can’t you?_ ’

Adrien wanted to believe that he could, really…but considering recent events, he was beginning to think he might need a chaperone when he was around Marinette. Where was his meddling kwami when he needed him? Adrien severely hoped Plagg wasn’t getting himself into trouble somewhere around Marinette’s apartment, because that would be really hard for him to explain…

The two bowls and spoons didn’t take as long to clean as Adrien needed. But Marinette hadn’t returned from the laundry room, so he was stuck awkwardly in her kitchen, wondering what he should do next, when another house-shuddering boom of thunder sounded overhead. Frowning, Adrien moved out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into the living room. It was early evening now, but the room was darker than it normally would be, thanks to the rain clouds, torn open and emptying their contents without pause onto Paris. Adrien climbed onto the couch to stare out the rain-spattered window, frowning up at the sky. He didn’t mind thunderstorms so much, but even when his clothes _did_ dry, how was he supposed to go home without getting soaked to the bone once again?

“Yikes.”

Adrien jumped, finding Marinette suddenly at his side; he hadn’t heard her come in. She, too, frowned up at the sky, though there was more anxiousness than irritation in her features.

“I hope it doesn’t rain all night,” she sighed, turning from the window and flopping down on the couch beside Adrien. There was a bag in her hands, stamped with the logo of _Boulangerie Patisserie._ “I _do_ want to be able to sleep tonight.”

Her pout was adorable, and Adrien bit back his smile as he turned to face her.

“Not a fan of thunderstorms?”

Marinette shook her head, offering the open bag to him. Adrien stuck a hand in, delighted when he withdrew it to find a cookie in the shape of a snowman between his fingers. As he munched on the cookie, Marinette set the bag down on the coffee table in front of them, frowning into the dimness of her living room.

“Of course not. They’re so unnecessary. Like, I get why we need rain. Rain is important. Thunder and lightning? Not so much. It’s like the powers that be are throwing a huge tantrum that we can hear all the way down here. Calm down, please.”

Adrien chuckled. He had never heard it put quite that way before.

“Why don’t we take our minds off it?” When Marinette’s curious gaze switched to him, he jerked his head at her T.V. “I see that console over there. Bet you don’t have the latest Mecha Strike.”

Marinette raised her eyebrows so high they disappeared behind her bangs.

“You think I don’t have Ultimate Mecha Strike V?” She asked, sounding outraged at the suggestion. Adrien smirked and shrugged, letting his arms rest against the top of the couch.

“Well, I don’t see Mecha Strike V on the T.V. screen…” he hinted. And Marinette, because she just _loved_ to prove him wrong, got up, turned the T.V. and the console on, and grabbed the two controllers that rested on the console. She tossed one to Adrien, who caught it effortlessly, brushing off the dust on the controller.

“Been a while, huh?” He noted as Marinette turned on the lamp next to him before she sat back down. “I bet you suck now.”

Marinette smirked at him, the fires of challenge burning in her eyes.

“That is not a bet I would be confident in,” she assured him as the start menu for Mecha Strike V filled the T.V. screen.

“Oh yeah?” Adrien grinned. “Name your price.”

“Don’t make me take your money, Adrien.”

“I’m not talking money.”

Marinette spared him a curious glance.

“So what are we betting, then?”

Adrien considered a moment, tapping his chin in thought. His eyes fell on the open bag of cookies on the table…and he smirked.

“How ‘bout a cookie bet?” He reasoned, pointing to the bag. Marinette snorted.

 “Of course you would want to bet with food,” she teased him, and he poked his tongue out at her. “So, what, we’re betting on who gets to eat all the cookies?”

“Nah, I’d feel bad taking _all_ of them from you,” he taunted, snorting at the way Marinette’s eyebrows rose in a disbelieving manner. “Let’s just say that we’ve agreed to split them, and we bet, like, five cookies each. For each round of the game, we bet a cookie, and whoever wins that round wins two cookies.”

“So, five rounds for each cookie?” Marinette wanted to check, smirking. “That’s a lot of Mecha Strike.”

“Chicken?” Adrien suggested, quirking a brow. Marinette lowered her eyelids dangerously.

“Bring it on, Mr. Model,” she challenged him, and Adrien smirked as they were brought to the character screen. He went with his fail-safe—the Black Cat bot—while Marinette chose the Ladybot, and the first round began.

Adrien, who had been playing Mecha Strike whenever he could squeeze it in, because sometimes he just needed to relax after a stressful day, was fairly confident about his improved abilities. When he achieved the first combo strike, he was feeling pretty confident, and he smirked over at Marinette, who growled in frustration, clearly rusty.

Getting confident was his first mistake: when Marinette came back, she came back swinging hard and fast, and before Adrien knew it, his bot was flat on its ass, swaying in a dizzy motion as the Ladybot posed victoriously over it, the screen blaring victory for Marinette.

“ _Well_ , I guess that’s one less cookie for you, Mr. Agreste,” Marinette teased, popping a cookie into her mouth and munching it in a way that looked far too self-satisfied. Adrien rolled his eyes and hit the start button.

“Don’t get cocky, Miss Dupain-Cheng—we’re only getting started.”

And it was true: because they were more or less evenly matched, the rounds took a lot longer than they normally would, and therefore, the rest of the evening was consumed by Mecha Strike. They only paused a couple hours later for more soup for dinner before the last round began. For Adrien, the stakes were high—he hadn’t managed to win _one_ round yet, and he was blaming his hideous bad luck for it, because there was _no way_ Marinette should have been able to pull off _half_ the moves she was getting away with! It was bullshit! Bullshit, he said!

Needless to say, the trash talk was becoming _unreal_.

“Oh come on!” Adrien protested as the Ladybot sent an energy beam right into his Black Cat bot’s face. “That was a cheap shot!”

“Don’t blame me for your inability to dodge!” Marinette laughed as her bot ducked a blow from his bot, only to shove him back, powering up for a finishing combo.

“Every time I try to dodge, the button sticks!” Adrien protested, biting down on his tongue as he tried to muscle his way out of the situation, all to no avail. “You gave me the broken controller, didn’t you?”

“I don’t need my opponent to have a broken controller to win!” Marinette said, looking so smug as she landed blow after blow on him that Adrien couldn’t stand it.

“Fine, then switch with me,” he suggested, pausing the game and reaching over for her controller. Marinette moved it from his reach, staring at him as if he’d gone crazy.

“What? No!”

Adrien frowned, pursuing her to her side of the couch, groping for the controller even as she held it out to her other side, determined to keep it from him as her free hand pressed into his chest.

“Come on, if you’re so confident, what’s the problem?”

“It’s _my_ controller, Adrien!” Marinette insisted stubbornly, though she was laughing as she shoved a foot against his abdomen now in an attempt to keep him at bay. Adrien grunted, putting his weight on her as he still continued to reach for the controller as she held it firmly out of his grasp.

“What’s the difference? Come on, Mari—”

“No way!”

As they wrestled for the controller, Marinette un-paused the game. Before Adrien could stop her, she rolled out a quick combo that finished his bot, grinning cheekily as he stared from her to the screen in horror.

“No fair! I wasn’t holding my controller!”

“Your fault for trying to take _my_ controller in the first place,” Marinette chided with her tongue out at Adrien pouted down at her.

“And you didn’t even let me win _once._ You’re brutal, Mari,” he complained. Marinette seemed quite unperturbed by that, and she openly giggled at him and his plight. The sight of her laughter, even at his expense, was enough to soften Adrien, though he wasn’t too upset about losing to her in the first place; clearly, he needed to get better at Mecha Strike before making reckless bets he couldn’t win…

As Marinette laughed, Adrien suddenly became aware of the fact that he was lying on top of her, the warmth of her body soaking through the t-shirt he wore. He blinked, startled at this realization. He had been so busy trying to grab her controller that he hadn’t been properly self-aware, and now…

Adrien flushed, his mind panicking as it went into overtime trying to find a way out of this situation without making it awkward. But why did it have to be awkward? Marinette was too busy laughing at him to realize the compromising position they were in—

As soon as he thought that, Marinette glanced up at him…and then, by the sudden rounding of her eyes and the blush filling her face, seemed to register the same thing Adrien had. Her lips parted in surprise, and his eyes were immediately drawn to them, as if he couldn’t help it.

Damn it—he wanted to kiss her.

That was when his mind stopped working, rendering him useless; he could only stare down at her as she gaped up at him, the quiet between them growing tense and charged. As Adrien floundered with his suddenly non-responsive brain, an apology sprang to his lips, because it was probably appropriate here, and he should _move,_ he should definitely move before he made this any worse or—

Outside, thunder crashed, probably the loudest it had been all night.

And then everything went dark.

Adrien froze in place, the sudden loss of light and power startling him. His eyes adjusted quickly—as Chat Noir, his night vision was excellent, but as Adrien, it was only slightly better than an average person’s night vision. Still, it was enough to see the shocked look on Marinette’s face, her eyes as wide as they could possibly go…though whether it was because she was trying to see him or because the power outage had startled her, Adrien couldn’t be sure. He did register the way her hands gripped his biceps, nails digging into his skin. Definitely startled, then.

Adrien let out a short huff of breath, shifting as he began to draw away from her. As startled as Marinette might be by the sudden power outage, him lying on top of her probably wasn’t helping matters—

As he prepared to back away, Marinette’s grip suddenly slipped from his arms, up to his neck. They rested at his nape, scorching the skin there as his nerves rioted, instantly reacting to the touch, making Adrien freeze in place. What was she doing?

Marinette bit her lip, her brow furrowing. She looked uncertain about something…but the moment Adrien dared to move closer, trying to read the expression in her eyes, something changed, too fast for him to catch it—

And then she was leaning up...

Her lips were warm and soft. That was the only thing Adrien could register as they pressed against his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna make this longer...but then I realized it was about 40 pages, so then I was like, nah.
> 
> :D
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	17. Heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be up earlier, but then I got distracted by an art stream. LOL, whoops?
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Regardless, enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

Plagg’s whiskers were twitching as he flitted around through the vents, frowning to himself.

His annoyance with his Chosen had obscured everything else for a good, long while, but now that his temper had run its course…he was getting a very strange feeling. Like, somewhere, in this accursed human dwelling…his other half was waiting for him.

Plagg scoffed at that. It was probably a false alarm borne from wishful thinking; he’d been getting a lot of those lately. After all, the odds that Tikki would be here at his Chosen’s girlfriend’s dwelling would just be _too_ convenient—

Something red suddenly zipped by Plagg, bringing him to a screeching halt. He blinked perplexed green eyes, stunned for a brief moment.

…But on the other hand…stranger things have happened…

“Tikki!” Plagg hissed, rounding the corner to chase after the kwami. He suddenly found himself in a large cluttered bedroom as he exited the vents. He didn’t have time to take in any other details, however; a pair of big, indigo eyes was suddenly obscuring his vision.

“Plagg!” Tikki chirped, and she air tackled him, Plagg grumbling under his breath as she happily nuzzled her cheek against his. “I _knew_ I sensed you around! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

“Then how come it took you so long to find me?” Plagg sassed, regarding Tikki with an appraising glance. She seemed healthy…that was good.

Tikki smiled at him.

“Well, if you were moving around, too, naturally we’d keep missing each other,” she teased him. Plagg pouted at her foolproof logic.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” He wanted to know, following her as she flew across the room, to the bed, where a large, luxurious red pillow sat a few centimeters away from the rest of the pillows. Tikki tugged on the cord of a bedside lamp, bringing a little light into the room, before she flopped down onto the pillow, settling into what was clearly a familiar setting. Plagg joined her, noting how comfy the plush pillow was beneath him. He pawed at the pillow, getting comfortable as he eyed Tikki. “Wait, don’t tell me: your Chosen is my Chosen’s girlfriend.”

Tikki giggled.

“While it’s true that’s been the case more often than not, I don’t think so this time around. After all, Marinette and Adrien aren’t dating.”

Plagg deadpanned his other half a look.

“What do you mean? Of course they’re dating,” he huffed with a wave of his miniscule paw. “With the amount of time they spend staring slack-jawed at each other, how could they not be?”

Tikki frowned at this.

“Marinette doesn’t gawk at Adrien. Those days are long over. She’s a mature adult now…which is more than I can say for _your_ Chosen.”

“And what is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you? All the attempts on the akumatized victims’ lives? Leaving Ladybug in the lurch by suddenly withdrawing from his superhero duties?”

“None of that is _my_ fault.”

“I’m not saying it is.” Tikki tilted her head to the side with a frown. “…Is Adrien okay?”

Thunder rumbled overhead as Plagg considered the question, taking in Tikki’s concerned expression by the glow of the lamp beside them.

“He is…” he paused, “…under construction.”

Tikki blinked, apparently confused by the odd phrasing. Before she could ask, however, an earth-shattering boom crashed outside, and abruptly, the light fizzled out from the room. Both kwamis turned to stare at the dead light, and then glanced at each other.

“Oh dear…I hope Marinette’ll be okay. She hates thunderstorms…”

Plagg gave a shrug, sinking into the pillow.

“Adrien’s with her. He won’t let anything happen to her. Despite him being…difficult…about his feelings for her, he still cares a great deal for her.” Plagg sniffed. Silly humans and their ridiculous emotions…

Tikki crept closer to him, settling into the pillow next to him.

“Are you sure it’s okay to just let them be?”

“Why not? It’s not like we can just zoom in and check on them anyway. They still don’t know each other’s superhero identities, do they?”

“That’s true…” When Tikki still continued to look worried, Plagg sighed and scooted closer to her, resting his head against hers.

“Don’t fuss so much, Tikki. They’re adults. They’ll figure it out on their own.”

Tikki hummed, nuzzling her head against Plagg’s.

“I guess they will. Eventually…but in any case, I’m happy I get to spend time with you tonight, Plagg.”

Plagg closed his eyes, lacking the energy to suppress the purr that escaped him.

“Me, too, Tikki.”

 

* * *

 

Marinette didn’t mean to do it.

She didn’t mean to follow through with the wild, half-formed thoughts bouncing around in her brain all evening. She didn’t even mean to _entertain_ such thoughts, but her mind was unmanageable, only able to dwell on the feel of Adrien’s arms around her, the way he looked at her when he said he trusted her, the overconfident smirks he threw her way before being thrashed at their favorite video game, the blush that filled his face more than once tonight, his body heat…and now _this._ She blamed her sudden boldness on two things: the darkness that flooded the living room, hiding her and Adrien’s faces from view, and the desire to prove to herself that she wasn’t going crazy.

After all, she wasn’t _actually_ feeling things for Adrien again, after all this time. She couldn’t be. Sure, she could say with confidence that she actually _knew_ him now: he was a hot modeling dork who was sweet and kind, with a cheesy dad-pun-like sense of humor, and he was going through a rough time, but he was working to get better. But just because she knew him better now didn’t _mean_ anything. Really, such notions were ridiculous: she wasn’t a hormonal teenager anymore, crushing on the pretty boy model she sat behind in class. She and Adrien were _friends,_ good friends, and Adrien himself was no doubt in a very vulnerable state right now. The last thing that should’ve been on her mind when she hid herself in the laundry room in an attempt to regain her composure—after noting the relative ease with which Adrien could pick her up and hold her—was how soft his lips might be if she dared to just try them for herself…

And yet, here she was.

Marinette’s inward cursing increased two-fold when Adrien froze. Oh god, she was making him uncomfortable. What was she thinking, pulling a stunt like this? This was a _terrible_ way to prove that she didn’t have feelings for him! She should be ashamed!

Despite her inner dialogue berating her, Marinette was _still_ slow to pull away. Her body rebelled, wanting to savor the heat and the closeness, but Marinette made herself lean back, her teeth pressing into her lip immediately. She opened her eyes, wanting to search his expression, but thanks to the storm outside, there was no light to penetrate the darkness of the living room. Still, his motionlessness was a bad sign.

Marinette inhaled quietly, preparing to apologize—

Her air was abruptly cut off when Adrien leaned down, mashing his lips to hers.

Marinette let out a muffled squeak of surprise, and Adrien drew back immediately. He hovered over her, close enough that she could feel his trembling breath on her lips. Though she couldn’t see him, the weight of his stare made goosebumps chill her skin. But that was ridiculous, he couldn’t see her…

She waited for him to say something. He didn’t. And Marinette had no idea what to do.

He had kissed her back. It took him a moment, like his brain had lagged in between when she pulled back and his decision to reciprocate…but he still kissed her back.

Did that mean…was this okay?

Did Adrien… _want_ to kiss her?

Marinette couldn’t breathe.

‘ _This is a bad idea,_ ’ Alya’s voice whispered to her, scolding and worried all at the same time. ‘ _If you’re trying to prove that you’re over Adrien, this clearly isn’t the way to do it._ ’

But why not? When she kissed Adrien, all she felt was awkwardness, especially because he hadn’t bothered to kiss her back until she had pulled away. Didn’t that prove her right? Or had Adrien’s non-response obscured how _she_ actually felt about the whole matter?

…Well, she wouldn’t know until she tried again, would she…?

‘ _You’re terrible._ ’

She really was. Adrien didn’t deserve this; by all accounts, she was playing with his feelings right now. And considering his vulnerable state, this was super not okay. Friends did not do this to one another.

Just as she was trying to decide how to beg for forgiveness, her lips were once again occupied. This kiss was a little less awkward, but more hesitant, soft. And it was unbearably sweet. In the kiss, Marinette could feel Adrien’s care for her; ever the gentleman, he didn’t seem to want to scare her with such affection. Indeed, when Marinette froze in surprise, he drew back immediately. Clearly, he was reluctant to cross some sort of line with her, and his concern added to the wild pounding that was currently occurring in Marinette’s chest—

Unthinkingly, she leaned up again, brushing her lips against his. She felt the small intake of breath from him before he kissed her again, his movements slow and gentle. Marinette hardly dared to breathe as she returned the tender kisses with her own, the warning bells in her head stubbornly ignored as she melted into him, her hands creeping up from his neck to bury themselves in his soft, strawberry-scented hair. She was probably mussing his carefully tied bun, but she didn’t care; the only thing that registered was that she suddenly needed him closer, needed more of him. The need echoed through her fingers as they dragged through his hair, her nails grazing his scalp.

Adrien whimpered in the back of his throat. Beginning to surface from her haze, Marinette began to loosen her fingers, afraid she was hurting him—

But suddenly, there was something new as Adrien pressed his lips more firmly to hers, his hands moving to cup her cheeks. The way his lips traced hers was different, and he whimpered again, the tail end of the noise coming out in a growl. Marinette felt sudden heat spike through her as he pulled on her lower lip with his teeth, drawing a breathless gasp from her. Again, she felt him begin to pull back, as if he was worried he was frightening her. This annoyed her; didn’t he know the difference between fear and arousal?

Marinette buried her fingers in his hair, preventing him from going anywhere as she deepened the kiss, her tongue darting out to run across his bottom lip. She distinctly felt the shiver that trembled down his spine, and she had to suppress the grin that threatened to give her away when he mashed his lips to hers, gentleness fading rapidly and giving way to heat and hunger.

Wanting to hear him whine more, Marinette pulled at the golden strands, dislodging the bun as her fingers tangled in his hair, setting it free. As she dragged her fingers through his loose locks, she felt Adrien shudder again, his body tightening against hers, the planes of his muscles clearly felt through their very thin layers of clothing—

“ _Mari,_ ” he whimpered against her lips, and a thrill shot through Marinette at the sheer _need_ in his voice—

“ _Count on me, like one, two, three, I’ll be there!_ ”

Marinette and Adrien both jumped so violently at the sudden noise that their heads knocked together. As Adrien hissed, cursing as he sat up, Marinette felt the warmth of their bodies leave her, a chill invading the space between them. Pushing herself up onto her elbows, she glanced over at the coffee table, where her phone vibrated, its cheerful ringtone still blaring through the living room:

“ _I can count on you, like four, three, two, and you’ll be there._

 _‘Cause that’s what friends are supposed to do, aw yeah~_ ”

Marinette felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach at the familiar ringtone.

“Alya,” she muttered. The name was like a word of power; it broke the spell that had muted Marinette’s responsibility and common sense, casting what she had just been doing with Adrien into a harsh, unforgiving light.

Adrien’s reaction was startling; he abruptly scrambled away from Marinette, to the other side of the couch, as if he was unwilling to be caught in wrong-doing with her. Marinette cast him a curious glance, but she couldn’t focus on him right now; she knew Alya was probably calling to check up on her, and if she didn’t answer, Alya would worry needlessly.

Working to clear her throat in an attempt to sound as normal as possible, Marinette reached for her phone, sliding the bar at the bottom to answer the call.

“H-hello?”

“Marinette, thank god,” Alya sighed from the other end of the line. “Are you okay? I lost power over here—did you?”

“Yeah,” Marinette answered, trying to subtly clear her throat again, self-conscious because she could feel Adrien’s eyes on her, his gaze like a physical touch, ghosting across her face and down her body. She bit her lip and kept her gaze sternly away from him.

“Shit. Well, do you have all your blankets out and ready? I don’t know how long the power’s gonna be out, but it’s gonna get really cold tonight.”

“Don’t worry, I have a battery-powered electric blanket. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? Do you want me to come over?”

“No, Alya, don’t do that,” Marinette said in a rush, and then cringed at the haste of her response. Could she be any more obvious? “It’s still pouring outside; I don’t want you driving in such dangerous conditions.”

“Psh. No storm can keep me away if my Marinette needs me.”

Marinette let out a giggle that was a tiny bit strained.

“I’m fine, Alya, I promise. Just stay put, okay? _I’ll_ feel better knowing you’re safe and dry.”

“All right, all right. Well, make sure you keep warm, okay? Bundle yourself in the thousands of blankets you have at your place if you need to. Just don’t freeze, all right?”

“I’ll do my best.”

The line went quiet for a moment, which caused Marinette some concern. Had Alya hung up without saying goodbye? That wasn’t like her…

Just as Marinette began to pull her phone away from her ear to check her screen, Alya suddenly spoke again.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” Marinette answered as naturally as she could, while inwardly cringing at the lie. “Why do you ask?”

“…I don’t know. You just sound kind of off.”

“The power suddenly going out startled me, that’s all.”

“Aw. My poor Marinette,” Alya sighed, and Marinette bit her lip. She absolutely hated lying to Alya, so much that she almost blurted out the truth…but how could she explain herself with Adrien was sitting literally meters from her…? “You can call me if you have trouble falling asleep, okay? I know how you are about thunderstorms.”

Marinette smiled as guilt wrung at her insides.

“Thanks, Alya.”

“You know it, girl. I’m gonna go, but remember, if you need me, call me.”

“I will. Thanks, Alya.”

“G’night, girl.”

Alya hung up. Marinette lowered her phone from her ear, staring down at the screen, where she and Alya posed in a picture, holding up peace signs. Bit by bit, Marinette let what had just happened settle onto her shoulders.

Adrien had made her doubt her feelings for him all night…so to prove how _very_ over him she was, she had kissed him.

And then he had kissed her back.

And then they _kept_ kissing, without any inclination of stopping—

And then Alya had called, interrupting whatever _might_ have happened if she hadn’t wanted to check up on Marinette.

If that wasn’t divine intervention…

Marinette stood up, clutching her phone in her grasp. Quickly, she pulled up the flashlight app, narrowing her eyes against the sudden bright beam that burst from her phone. She cupped a hand around it, limiting the glow, before she inhaled deeply, squared her shoulders, and turned to face Adrien.

He leaned forward on the couch, a hand running through his hair, as if he was paranoid it wasn’t lying flat. His cheeks were flushed, shoulders hunched, eyes cast downward before they flicked over to Marinette, almost as if he felt her staring. The clear embarrassment on his face robbed her of the knowledge of how words worked; for a minute, they could only stare at each other.

‘ _You started this mess, Dupain-Cheng! Say something already!_ ’

Marinette swallowed, and then forced the first words that came to mind out of her mouth.

“The power’s out,” she said stupidly. Alya’s voice sighed in her head.

‘ _Okay, it’s a start…but let’s try for something a little smarter next time._ ’

Adrien blinked at her.

“Yeah…” he replied slowly. His voice was husky, and he seemed to realize it, for he cleared his throat, glancing away from her. “Not much to do in the dark…”

Was she imagining the suggestion in his tone? She had to be. There was no way he was actually…

“Why don’t we go to bed?”

Adrien stared at her for a full five seconds before Marinette realized how her words sounded, and she felt mortified heat flush through her neck and all the way up to the roots of her hair.

“I-I mean! To sleep! Just sleeping! It’s, uh, only nine o’ clock, but I’ve had a long day and I bet you’re tired, too, hahaha, so maybe we should just…call it a night?”

It was way too hot in this room, despite the fact that the heater wasn’t currently working. Adrien seemed to be feeling the heat, too, if his flushed face was any indication.

“Um…okay,” he agreed after a moment, glancing away from Marinette as he rubbed the back of his neck. The lack of eye contact eased some of Marinette’s nerves, and she nodded, turning her back to him.

“Okay. Just, uh, wait there a second. I’m gonna go set up some stuff, and then I’ll be back.”

“Okay.”

Fleeing to the laundry room once more, Marinette made herself breathe. Okay…the situation had gotten a little out of control…but she could salvage this. All she needed to do was act cool, and pretend the kissing thing _never_ happened.

‘ _Seriously, Marinette? How old are you, again?_ ’

Marinette banished Alya’s voice to the back of her mind as she went to the dryer, carefully withdrawing Adrien’s still wet clothes and hanging them up to air dry by the light of her flashlight app. She forced down the blush on her face at the sight of his underwear—black boxer briefs, incidentally—and resolved to be professional. It wasn’t like she, as a fashion designer, didn’t have to handle men’s underwear from time to time. It was just underwear.

Adrien’s underwear…which meant he currently wasn’t wearing any…

Blood went zooming into Marinette’s face. Shit, she didn’t even _think_ about that until now! _Why_ did she have to have this realization _right now?!_

“Pull yourself together!” She grumbled to herself, slapping her cheeks. The stinging pain helped clear her head, and she refocused on her task, hanging up the rest of Adrien’s clothes before she moved to the linen closet, drawing out extra blankets. If the power was going to stay off for the rest of the night, she was going to have to do all she could to avoid freezing, per Alya’s request…and she had to keep her impromptu overnight guest warm as well…

Adrien hadn’t moved when Marinette returned from the laundry room. He abruptly sat up straight when he heard her coming, and Marinette did her best to ignore him as she settled the blankets on the other end of the couch, making sure to keep the fluffiest blanket on top of the pile as she withdrew another blanket and folded it over her arm. If she was going to be spending the night on the couch, she wanted to be comfortable…and her electric blanket was upstairs, so Adrien would be warm, too, at least.

“Be right back,” she mumbled to Adrien once more before she headed for the stairs. Tikki wasn’t on her usual pillow when Marinette entered the room, and she flicked the light from her phone around, searching for the suddenly elusive kwami.

“Tikki?” Marinette hissed, closing the door so her voice wouldn’t carry downstairs. “Where are you?”

The kwami’s head popped out of one of Marinette’s desk drawers, and Marinette beckoned to her as she crossed to the bed, laying down the extra blanket.

“Listen, I need you to hide for tonight, okay? Adrien’s gonna take my bed, since he obviously can’t go home in this weather. You know the drill: unless I call you, please don’t come out, okay?”

Tikki blinked her indigo eyes at Marinette.

“But where are you going to sleep, Marinette?”

“On the couch,” Marinette answered, leaning over and squinting in the semi-darkness as she searched for the switch to her electric blanket. Her phone rested on her nightstand, casting a pool of light on the ceiling that Marinette was just able to see by, but she still had to hunt with touch alone for the switch. Once she found it, she snapped it on, and the blanket hummed to life, spreading warmth immediately. Marinette almost whimpered in longing…but it was one night. She could live one night without her precious heated blanket…even if tonight was supposed to become unbearably cold…

She glanced over in time to spot the worried look on Tikki’s face. Smiling, Marinette reached over and stroked her kwami between her antennae.

“It’s only for one night, Tikki. I’ll be fine. I’m sorry you have to hide out for a while, but I think the storm’ll pass in the morning. I’ll make it up to you later, okay?”

“I’m fine, Marinette, don’t worry about me,” Tikki reassured her Chosen, nuzzling into Marinette’s hand. “Just do whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

Marinette smiled in relief. Tikki made everything so easy. Marinette was always so grateful for her mild-mannered kwami.

“Thanks, Tikki. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Assured by Tikki, Marinette headed back downstairs, gathering whatever courage she had left to face Adrien a third time—

He was lying down on the couch, the blankets spread over him, his feet hanging off the end by a good few centimeters. Marinette blinked, brought up short by this unexpected development.

“What are you doing?” She asked him, lifting her phone higher to shine light on him. Adrien winced and covered his eyes with a hand, and Marinette lowered the phone, murmuring an apology.

“Going to bed,” Adrien replied, squinting at her over his hand. “That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

“Well, yeah…but you don’t have to sleep down here, Adrien. You can take my bed.”

Adrien blinked at her. Slowly, he sat up, tucking loose blonde hair behind his ears as his golden brow began to crease.

“I can’t do that,” he protested, to Marinette’s surprise. “I’m not gonna make you sleep on the couch in your own apartment, Mari.”

Ohhhh, he was being polite. To this, Marinette snorted.

“You _clearly_ don’t fit on the couch, Mr. Model,” she pointed out, flicking one of his toes as she drew closer to the couch. Adrien made a face and pulled his feet under the blanket. “My bed’s bigger, so it makes more sense for you to take it.”

“But you’ll be cold down here,” Adrien pointed out. Marinette frowned.

“I’ll survive,” she insisted, her gaze growing stubborn in reaction to Adrien’s locked jaw. “Now move. You’re in my makeshift bed.”

Adrien met her gaze head-on, green eyes glittering in the dark.

“No,” he said. And, as Marinette watched in open-mouthed shock, he pulled the blankets over his head and buried himself under them. “ _You_ go sleep upstairs. I’m just fine down here.”

Marinette gaped at him.

“Seriously?” She questioned, setting her phone down on the coffee table as she moved forward, hands gripping her hips as she scowled down at the blanketed ball that was Adrien Agreste. “What are you, twelve?”

“Maybe,” came Adrien’s muffled voice from underneath the blankets. There was a smile in his voice that irritated Marinette. “My age aside, you’re not gonna get me to move, so you might as well just give up.”

The last two words stoked the fire that was Marinette’s competitive streak.

“Is that a challenge?” She asked, and Adrien must have realized his mistake, for he groaned and scrunched himself into a tighter ball.

“Go to bed, Marinette.”

“I will as soon as you get out of it!” Marinette protested, and she grabbed the blanket, giving a tug. Adrien had a pretty strong grip, however, so Marinette had to stop when she heard an ominous ripping sound, and she let go with a huff. “Adrien! Get out of there!”

“No,” Adrien answered, stubborn. Growling under her breath, Marinette tried for a new tactic—she climbed onto the couch, fingers jabbing into the sides of the Adrien blanket ball. He gave a yelp, and she grinned, sensing weakness.

“A-ha! Someone’s ticklish, huh?”

“Marinette, no!” Adrien protested, but it was too late: Marinette attacked his sides without mercy, and soon, Adrien was a ball of giggles, Marinette unwittingly grinning at the cute sounds of him snorting with laughter. The attack only lasted a few seconds before he was crying for mercy, and Marinette ceased her tickling, leaning over him as he finally pulled himself free of the blanket, his hair disheveled, save for that hair clip that kept his bangs miraculously in place. Marinette smirked, tempted to snap a photo…but then she remembered her promise not to blackmail him.

“So? Since I got you to surrender, this means I get the couch now, right?” She asked him, lifting an eyebrow at him. Adrien inhaled deeply, clearly attempting to catch his breath after the sudden tickle fight. A hand was resting against his face, and he opened one eye, appearing to inspect her.

“Question,” he said after a moment, “how big is your bed?”

Marinette smirked.

“It’s big enough to fit you, Mr. Model, don’t worry.”

“While that is comforting, that’s not what I mean.” Adrien propped himself up on an elbow, prompting Marinette to sit back once she recognized their close proximity, a blush flooding her face once again, though she tried to remain casual. “I mean, is it big enough to fit two people?”

Marinette tilted her head to the side.

“Well, yeah. When Alya comes over, we share it, and there’s no problem with space, until she starts having that kickboxing dream…why do you…”

Adrien blushed as Marinette watched him; the involuntary reaction gave him away, and Marinette felt her face heat up as well.

“Oh,” she mumbled.

Adrien lifted his hands immediately, his expression pained.

“It’s just a thought. If it’s supposed to get really cold tonight, more body heat seems like a good idea…but I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, so if you don’t want to—”

“No,” Marinette blurted without thinking, and then rushed to correct her mistake. “I mean, no, you have a point: that _does_ make sense. And it’d solve the problem of who sleeps where…”

As she fell silent, Adrien watched her, anxiousness rolling off him in waves. Marinette wondered if he, like her, was dwelling on how potentially dangerous this decision might be, if they weren’t careful…

“So…it’s okay?” He asked quietly. Marinette swallowed her own misgivings and nodded.

“Yeah. It’s okay.”

 

* * *

 

She was wide awake. He knew she was. After settling down into her bed and bidding goodnight to one another, she had rolled over and given him her back as she went into the fetal position to sleep. That was an hour and a half ago, according to her phone, and she hadn’t relaxed her position yet.

Adrien couldn’t honestly say that he was anywhere near sleep, either, but he fidgeted, at least, shifting his legs under the blankets, drumming his fingers on his stomach, the sound of the pounding rain on the roof making him restless. He had no idea what to make of her stillness.

At least it was warm—this heated blanket was amazing, and Adrien had to keep himself from purring in pleasure. _That_ wouldn’t go over well at all.

Her breathing wasn’t as even as she was pretending it was. Every time he shifted, he heard her breath catch, only to stutter back into the even rhythm she was forcing onto herself. Adrien frowned. She was clearly uncomfortable with him here…and yet she wouldn’t say anything. Why? He knew all too well by now how fully she could speak her mind when it came to him…so why didn’t she just cancel the arrangement and make him sleep on the couch? Was she trying to be polite because she’d feel bad about making him sleep downstairs? But then _she_ would just go downstairs herself, wouldn’t she? Or was she waiting until he fell asleep before she left him up here?

Adrien muffled his sigh. Most likely, he was overthinking this whole situation, and he was feeling guilty, because he had been the one to suggest the arrangement in the first place. It wasn’t like he had any ill intentions—he just wanted to be close to her—but he still felt bad about putting her in this position. Clearly, Marinette hadn’t known what she was getting into when she allowed him to share her bed with her, and was now regretting it.

Especially considering what had occurred between them just an hour and a half ago…an incident that Adrien was still struggling to convince himself was real, simply because it seemed too good to be true…

Adrien turned his head a little, staring at the back of Marinette’s head. She had taken out her pigtails before bed, and loose raven hair spilled across her pillow, contrasting with her pink pillow case…but only because Adrien had seen the pillow case was pink before she turned off her flashlight app. He squinted, just able to make out a flush that was spreading across what he could see of the back of Marinette’s neck. Was she too hot? Or…could she feel him staring at her…?

“Mari?”

Marinette jumped, and Adrien suppressed the urge to chuckle at the squeak that escaped her. God, she was cute.

“Y-yeah?” She stammered, turning her head a little, though Adrien knew she couldn’t see him. That made it a little easier for him to breathe and finally speak the words that he’d been mulling over for the past ninety minutes:

“Are we not gonna talk about what happened downstairs?”

He felt Marinette stiffen. He watched as her teeth bit down on her lower lip and sighed through his nose. He had a very strong feeling that he wasn’t going to like what she was about to say…if she even _chose_ to indulge him, that is…

Marinette’s voice was surprisingly small when she answered him.

“Do we have to…?”

Oh god. Forget it, forget the whole thing, Agreste, he couldn’t pursue it, not with her sounding like that—

‘ _Get a grip,_ ’ Adrien sternly ordered himself as he cleared his throat. They were adults, damn it. They had to talk about these things. Or he did, at least, if he didn’t want the memory of tonight to torment him into insanity.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said apologetically before his voice turned firm. “…But I think we need to.”

Silence settled between them, tense and uncomfortable. The longer Marinette remained quiet, the more anxious Adrien grew. He was on the brink of blurting out never mind, that it wasn’t important after all, inwardly resolving to work it out in therapy the first chance he got, when Marinette let loose a sigh that seemed to remove all the tension in her body. And then she rolled over to face him.

Adrien was startled by the move; he had apparently moved unconsciously closer to her, so when she rolled over, they were almost nose to nose. He froze, staring at her, assuming that she would move back first with a hushed apology.

She didn’t.

“Adrien,” she murmured to him, blue eyes wide and pleading as she searched in vain for his gaze in the darkness. “I’m so sorry.”

Something about this apology tickled something in the back of Adrien’s brain. He couldn’t focus on it, however, not with her so close to him. He swallowed and frantically scrambled to remember how the hell words worked.

“F-for what?” He questioned stupidly. Marinette sighed again, her breath hitting his face, smelling of the toothpaste she’d used before bed. Such a small thing threatened to undo Adrien, and he sternly locked his muscles in place. He would _not_ jump Marinette for something as silly as _toothpaste_. God, he needed to get a grip.

“You know,” she huffed, and her expression twisted in embarrassment. “For…for kissing you.”

Adrien blinked, processing the apology.

Oh…so she regretted it after all, huh…

“It’s okay,” he was quick to assure her, thankful that she couldn’t see him right now, for he was certain she’d be able to see the way his heart was threatening to split apart just from the look on his face. “We were just caught up in the moment, I guess—”

“It’s _not_ okay,” Marinette insisted, her sudden scolding tone ceasing further words from Adrien. “I shouldn’t have…god, that was an _awful_ thing to do to you!”

Adrien blinked, nonplussed. What was she talking about?

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I shouldn’t go around kissing my friends like that! I never meant to play with your feelings, Adrien, honestly. I was just trying to prove something to myself, and it ended up backfiring on me, and now I feel so stupid, and you didn’t deserve to be dragged into such a complicated situation, and—”

Adrien had to put a finger to Marinette’s lips to get her to quiet down; she ignored all his other attempts to cut in, and just kept barreling on, rambling out a long stream of confusing and intriguing words that he didn’t want her to move on from until he had a chance to address them. He was relieved when she silenced herself at his touch, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. Yes, this conversation was several shades of awkward, but ignoring it wasn’t going to solve anything. It was time to pull up his big boy pants—well, Marinette’s pink pajama pants, actually—and face it.

The ‘playing with his feelings’ issue he left alone, simply because he wasn’t sure just how much Marinette knew about his feelings…and until he could verify that he wasn’t _that_ obvious when he was around her, that was a thread he was choosing not to tug, for the time being. Instead, he jumped to the next interesting thing that Marinette had spouted in her long-winded spiel of apology and self-abuse:

“What do you mean, you wanted to prove something to yourself?”

Adrien’s finger drifted away from her lips to let her speak freely…but he felt the heat that rushed to her face before he drew away, and it intrigued him further. Just what did she need to go about proving by kissing him…?

“I…I…” Marinette sighed, muffling a whine. “Oh god, it’s so embarrassing, please don’t laugh, okay?”

Adrien smiled.

“I won’t. You can tell me.”

Marinette groaned under her breath, and Adrien scooted a little closer, their noses brushing against each other, foreheads touching.

“Please?” He asked softly.

Marinette swallowed, letting out a breath.

“I just…well…tonight, with us playing around and all…I don’t know,” she grumbled, turning her head away to avoid Adrien’s gaze, though she couldn’t see him. “When you held me in the kitchen…you were so close…and then I started thinking…things.”

Adrien forced himself not to laugh.

“Things?” He prompted. Marinette grumbled a little under her breath.

“You’re really going to make me spell it out?”

“I won’t know what you’re talking about any other way, Mari. It’s not like I can read minds,” he reminded her.

“Thank god,” Marinette huffed, and Adrien couldn’t help but chuckle a little at that.

“What? You already tell me what’s on your mind most of the time, anyway. What d’you have to hide from me?”

Marinette’s expression abruptly became inscrutable, her face still turned from him. Adrien squinted, trying to identify the mystery in her gaze, but as soon as he dared to look closer, it vanished, and she turned back to him, a slight smile on her lips.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to, Adrien,” she said lightly…but there was an undercurrent of warning to her words that Adrien was just able to pick up on. He stared at her, marveling. He thought he knew her pretty well by now…but then again, who was he to assume that not everyone had another side to them, never seen before…?

“All right,” he agreed, choosing to let the matter drop—for now—in favor of their previous topic. “So, back to these things you were thinking…”

Marinette sighed, as if she had been hoping he’d forget or something.

“Right…well, I won’t give you the gritty details, but…it’s been a while since I’ve been…held…by a guy.”

“…Among other things?” Adrien suggested, just barely able to get the words out through the sudden dryness in his throat. Marinette smiled a little, her freckled cheeks flushing.

“Exactly. So, when you held me close like that…I kind of started wondering…what it would be like to…”

“To…?”

Here, Marinette half-buried her face into the pillow underneath them. But she still forced out the words that confirmed Adrien’s sudden suspicion:

“…To kiss you,” she mumbled, and by all accounts, her face ought to have been on fire, with how red it was.

Oh. Ohhh. She had just been _curious._ Well, Adrien didn’t dare to hope for anything else, so this reasoning made sense to him. And he would have left it at that…were it not for the _other_ intriguing thing she had said…

“But it backfired on you?”

Marinette groaned again, the sound muffled as she pressed her face fully into the pillow. Adrien wished she would stop making such provocative noises in such close quarters with him; if she kept that up, he’d have to deal with a rather urgent situation in between his legs before long…

“Yes,” she grumbled begrudgingly, turning once again to face him head-on. “I didn’t expect you to be so _good_ at it.”

That forced a laugh from Adrien, and Marinette scowled at him.

“You said you wouldn’t laugh,” she reminded him sternly. Adrien struggled to reign himself in.

“Sorry, just…I’m happy you enjoyed the seconds of kissing we had before Alya interrupted,” he teased while he inwardly screamed. He was a good kisser, she thought he was a good kisser…Alya was going to murder him, sure, but still, _Marinette thought he was a good kisser._ At this point, he almost welcomed the Cesaire threat, because at least he would die happy.

Through his glee, he witnessed Marinette blinking at him, looking surprised.

“…You’re not mad?” She asked, in a voice so afraid that he would be furious with her that Adrien paused, frowning down at her.

“Should I be?”

Marinette shifted and bit her lip, her surprise warping into awkwardness.

“Well, I _did_ kind of spring it on you…”

“I would’ve been more surprised if you had asked permission, honestly.”

That seemed to draw Marinette up short, and she stared without seeing at him, blue eyes wide.

“How come?”

Adrien lifted and dropped a shoulder, hoping to sound as casual as that gesture she couldn’t see, even if he currently was anything but.

“Because you’re you,” he answered, “and I’m me. So I didn’t really think you’d ever want to kiss me.”

Marinette deadpanned him a look, and Adrien was entertained by the fact that she still made those faces at him, despite the fact that she couldn’t possibly know that he could see her.

“You _do_ remember me admitting that I had a teenage crush on you that was so big that I couldn’t function like a normal human being around you?” She pointed out dryly. Adrien chuckled, the sound hollow. Oh, what he wouldn’t give for such simple days again…

“That was then, though,” he pointed out, watching her eyes. “This is now, and I’m me…and you’re you.”

Marinette smiled a little.

“You’ve said that twice, now. What is it supposed to mean?”

“That I’m a mess. And you’re wonderful.”

Marinette’s face turned red once again.

“You aren’t a mess,” she contradicted him, and Adrien smirked at how she chose to ignore the compliment.

“I’m a work in progress, then,” he corrected himself, closing his eyes. Unconsciously, he nuzzled Marinette’s nose. “Under construction, as Ivan would say.”

There was a soft, almost hesitant touch to his cheek. Marinette’s fingertips traced across his skin, her palm resting against his face after a moment. Adrien moved towards the warmth, humming in content at the contact.

“That might be true,” Marinette said softly, her breath tickling his face, “but just because you’re not, uh, finished yet, it doesn’t make you a mess.”

Adrien snorted softly.

“You’re so nice, Mari,” he mumbled, a hand sliding up to cover hers, keeping her hand to his face.

“Not really,” Marinette whispered, and now she scooted so close that there was barely any space between them, and he could feel her body heat radiating from her, her lips gently brushing his as she spoke. “I’m just being honest.”

“Can I be honest, too?”

“S-sure,” Marinette muttered, her breath hitching as Adrien dared to press a light kiss to her palm. “Uh, go ahead.”

“I’m trying really, really hard not to kiss you again,” he confessed, keeping his eyes closed and feeling his pulse race, his blood sparking at her proximity, at the fact that she _chose_ to be this close to him on her own. Did she really not know the effect she had on him?

Marinette freed her hand from his. He swallowed his whimper of protest—he had no right to hold her there if she didn’t want to stay—

Her hand slid around him, massaging the back of his neck. Adrien shuddered, and Marinette pressed closer to him still, her free hand gripping the front of his shirt.

“Is it okay that I want you to?” She asked him, her tone doing _devastating_ things to him. Adrien opened his eyes, briefly surprised at the look on her face, her eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed, her tongue running over her top lip…like she was going to eat him. It was a look he’d never seen on her before, and he suddenly found that he couldn’t breathe, a stirring deep in the pit of his stomach telling him that he was in trouble, _big_ trouble—

He must’ve made some sort of noise that resembled a ‘yes’: Marinette moved forward, removing the sliver of space that still remained between their faces, her lips pressing firmly to his. And Adrien happily lost himself in the kiss, shoving aside all the other unanswered questions he wanted to ask, though he was half-afraid of the answers they might evoke. He wanted nothing else but this moment with this woman, with whom he wasn’t in love with yet, but could certainly feel himself tumbling in that direction, straight off the cliff until he was free-falling, the plunge terrifying and exciting all at the same time—

“Adrien,” Marinette mumbled after a moment, her fingers creeping up into his hair again as she kissed him, “touch me.”

The order sent a jolt up Adrien’s spine; he had been trying not to get carried away, and must have unwittingly froze up. Now, he carried out Marinette’s order with pleasure, his touch feather light as his hands slid down her abdomen, settling for a moment on her hips before his arms circled her, crushing her to him, because the proximity _still_ wasn’t enough, she _still_ wasn’t close enough. Marinette gasped, and Adrien feared for a moment that he was hurting her, but she only kissed him more fiercely as a result, nibbling on his lip, evoking a moan of longing from him.

Marinette broke from him to giggle at him. Embarrassed, Adrien kissed her again to silence her laughter, and she melted into him, rolling them so that he was once again on his back as she kissed him. He didn’t mind in the slightest; it left his hands free, and his fingers dragged down her back as he relished every little noise she made at the contact.

The temperature in the room spiked, jumping about ten degrees higher, but Adrien could be on fire and he wouldn’t care. In fact, he wasn’t so sure that he _wasn’t_ , given the things that Marinette’s touch did to his bare skin. Her fingers licked up his arms and over his chest as his shirt rode up, like flames, leaving a blazing trail that left him tingling, her kisses scorching as she pressed her lips to his neck, his jaw line, anywhere she could reach. She was like a supernova, slowly turning him to cinders, and he was enjoying the incineration far too much to save himself. He let his fingers sift through her dark hair, content to let them char as long as he never had to stop touching her, even if it would end up destroying him—

Her teeth found his earlobe, and Adrien jolted when she bit down.

“Ah!” The involuntary noise left him before it was too late, and though he slapped a hand over his mouth, he knew Marinette had heard him. She let loose a giggle that was downright _sinful_ before she began to suckle on his earlobe, and Adrien whimpered, his grip tightening on her hips, because that was _not fair_ , he was sensitive there, she was playing dirty, and he couldn’t take it—

“S-stop,” he forced out, his hands somehow finding her shoulders to gently but firmly pull her back. It wasn’t necessary; Marinette drew back immediately when he asked her to, her eyes wide in her face.

“Adrien? Are you okay? Oh god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

She shifted in his lap and Adrien bit his lip to muffle a grunt. But Marinette had finally realized the problem as well, now that she was sitting directly over it. Panting, Adrien watched blood fill her face, and he let out a mortified groan, a hand over his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he grumbled. Marinette giggled again, the sound a little strained.

“It’s okay. It’s a natural reaction, of course…” Carefully, she climbed off him. “…But maybe we should cool down.”

The lower half of his body rioted, but Adrien gave a nod. One line had already been crossed tonight; he didn’t need to go sprinting over several more.

“…Um,” Marinette began, and Adrien turned to read her expression. It was embarrassed. “Do you, uh…need a minute?”

Adrien flushed at the implication.

“No, no,” he assured her with a cough, shifting around so that it was less noticeable. “It’s not bad…it’ll go away as soon as I calm down…hopefully…”

“Really?” Marinette’s tone was doubtful. “Because you can use my bathroom if you need to—”

“I’m fine, Marinette,” Adrien told her firmly, his face growing even redder at the thought of masturbating in Marinette’s bathroom. God, just kill him now. “I think we’d better just go to sleep now.”

“Okay…” She seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then she settled down next to him, closer than he was anticipating; he half-expected her to turn her back on him again, but supposed there was no need now, since they had finally addressed the issue…and expounded upon it…

‘ _So…what now?_ ’

Adrien scowled at himself. What the hell did that mean, ‘what now’? He shouldn’t be expecting _anything_ , let alone _more_ from Marinette. Just because she admitted he was a good kisser didn’t mean she wanted to _be_ with him or anything. Didn’t he know better than to expect anything by now?

“…Adrien? Are you…okay?”

Adrien glanced over at her. She was biting her lip again.

“…How do you mean?” He asked cautiously, simply because he felt there was more to her question than she let on. Marinette shifted a little closer, appearing worried.

“I mean…are you okay with…what happened between us…?”

“You mean the kissing?” He wanted to verify, nearly smiling at how Marinette appeared to want to dance around the issue in her wording. Indeed, her face blazed, but her gaze was quite steady, even if she couldn’t see him.

“Yes, that.”

“I’m fine, Mari.”

“Really? ‘Cause I kind of feel like I…used you, or something…”

‘ _Use me,_ ’ Adrien’s thoughts crooned, though he kept his lips tightly shut to avoid speaking them out loud. ‘ _Use me however you want, Mari. Bend me, break me, whatever, I’m yours._ ’

Adrien suppressed a sigh. He really _was_ in too deep at this point, wasn’t he?

Turning, Adrien reached for her, tucking her dark hair behind her ear before he let his hand settle against her cheek, feeling the heat in her face increase at his touch. That made him smile a little. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who reacted strongly to simple touches…

“If you’re okay with it, Mari, then I’m okay with it,” he assured her. Marinette appeared to take a moment to chew over that, but once she seemed satisfied, she nodded.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Adrien parroted, smiling at her, though she couldn’t see it. He removed his hand from her; though he didn’t want to, he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by letting his touch linger for too long. Rolling back onto his back, he folded his hands behind his head, settling in for the night. “G’night, Mari.”

“Night.”

Adrien let out a slow breath, closing his eyes. He willed himself not to replay the hot kisses from just a couple minutes ago, because they wouldn’t help his state in the slightest. In fact, he was kind of impressed that there _was_ a state to worry about—with his previous girlfriends, he had a hard time (in the metaphorical sense) getting intimate, simply because a certain spotted heroine wouldn’t leave his mind, and he felt so guilty for what he saw as treason to his feelings for his Lady that anything past second base became impossible. Not many of his exes were very understanding about it, and it was what caused several of his breakups. But now he was here with another woman, and there was no trace of Ladybug in his brain until now.

Wow. Progress.

A sudden touch startled him. Adrien glanced over, finding Marinette scooting closer to him again, her head resting on his shoulder, her hand on his chest. Though he couldn’t see her face at this angle, he could tell she was blushing just from the warmth that radiated from her.

“…Um, sorry,” she mumbled, and Adrien briefly wondered why her first reaction always seemed to be an apology. “I should’ve asked before I moved, but, uh…i-is this okay…?”

Oh, she was so endearing. Adrien smiled, lifting his arms out from behind his head, one circling her to rest on her side, the other covering her hand as it lay flat against his chest.

“It’s okay,” he assured her, leaning over to plant a kiss to the crown of her head. The warmth exuding from her increased, but she nuzzled closer to him.

“Okay,” she mumbled. “Night, Adrien.”

“G’night, Mari.”

 

* * *

 

Marinette awoke, as usual, to the sound of her early alarm, waking her an hour before she had to get ready for class, just in case she wanted to go for a run. Marinette groaned, reaching over to smack her nightstand, picking up the phone once she located it by touch alone. Peeking a bleary eye out from her pillow, she turned the alarm off. Fuck running, she wasn’t going out when it was so cold. She really should deactivate that alarm…

Her phone was low on power. Marinette frowned at that. She normally let it charge overnight to avoid this problem…did she just forget last night? Yawning, she reached over, feeling for the cord on the floor that would charge her phone, plugging it in and laying her charging phone back on her nightstand. She flopped forward again, ready to go back to sleep—she had been having a dream that was rather _interesting_ , and hoped to return immediately to it—but something distracted her. She frowned, keeping her eyes closed as she raised her head once again, sniffing.

She smelled pancakes.

 _Why_ did she smell pancakes?

‘ _Did Alya stay over…?_ ’ Her muddled mind wondered as she yawned, reluctantly leaving her bed to go investigate. Let’s see…what was today, again…? If she wasn’t mistaken, it was still the middle of the week…so why would Alya have stayed over…?

Marinette reached the kitchen…and sleep abruptly fled from her.

Because CEO/supermodel Adrien Agreste was fully dressed, at her stove, and making pancakes like he did this every day.

Marinette gawked at him, unable to react in any other way, even as Adrien turned at the sound of her approach and smiled.

“Morning,” he greeted her, looking wickedly amused about something. “Nice bed head.”

Swiftly, Marinette’s hands jumped to her hair, smoothing down the raven locks as she scowled at Adrien’s perfectly coiffed hair. Stupid model man…

“Breakfast is almost ready,” he told her, turning back to the stove. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

Marinette blinked rapidly as she slowly sat down, bullying her brain into working order so she could process what was happening. Adrien Agreste was making pancakes in her kitchen. Why?

‘ _Because he stayed over,_ ’ her mind eventually reminded her. Immediately, it all came flooding back to her: finding him wandering out in the rain, bringing him back to her place, dinner, messing around, Mecha Strike, cookies, wrestling, the power outage…kissing… _lots_ of kissing…

Marinette’s face exploded in heat, and she immediately covered her face with her hands, suppressing the mortified shrieking that so desperately wanted to escape her. Oh god, _what the hell was_ _last night?!_

“Here you go,” chirped Adrien’s voice, and Marinette looked up, finding a stack of pancakes in front of her, accompanied with sausages, a bowl of chopped fruit, and a glass of orange juice. Marinette blinked at the mouth-watering display…and then stared up at Adrien, mystified.

“None of this was in my apartment last night,” she said, and Adrien chuckled.

“No, it wasn’t, which was why I stopped by a twenty-four hour grocery store this morning,” he told her, appearing quite proud of himself. He returned to the stove to load up a breakfast plate for himself as he said, “I picked up everything on your grocery list, and added a few things of my own, hence, pancakes.” He sat down across from her with his plate and a grin at her astounded look. “What? Just because I grew up a rich kid doesn’t mean I don’t know how to grocery shop.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes at him.

“You got _everything_ on my list?” She asked, doubtful. After all, she clearly remembered writing down “tampons” on the list, since she was running low. Adrien seemed to catch her meaning, and he flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. Marinette began to smirk—

“A very nice salesclerk helped me out when it came to the feminine hygiene products,” he admitted, and Marinette’s jaw dropped. “I didn’t know what brand you used, so she just recommended the standard kind. I tried, but I’m sorry if it’s the wrong kind or something. The receipt’s in the bag with it on the counter if you wanna make a return.” He jabbed his thumb at the counter. “Otherwise, your fridge and most of your cabinets are full. I kind of just stuck things wherever they’d fit, so sorry if I messed up a system you had or something.”

Marinette sputtered in disbelief. _Seriously?_

“What are you, a housewife?” She questioned, shock causing her mouth to run unchecked. Adrien, instead of being offended, merely grinned.

“Why? You picturing me in one of those frilly pink aprons?” He teased, and Marinette snorted at the mental picture.

“It’d suit you,” she teased him, picking up her fork to attack her pancakes, suddenly ravenous. “I think we’ve discovered that you look good in pink.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Adrien huffed, and Marinette muffled her giggling with a bite of her breakfast. She was surprised to find that pancakes _a la_ Adrien Agreste were _delicious._

“You can cook?” She questioned him, looking up only briefly to see Adrien shrug before she returned to her plate.

“Sure. I learned while in Italy. You can’t live there without developing a love of food.”

“Mmm,” Marinette hummed, nodding her approval. Growing self-conscious as Adrien watched her, she swallowed, dropping her eyes to her plate. “You didn’t have to do this,” she pointed out, glancing up from her plate at him.

Adrien merely smiled.

“I know,” he replied, and Marinette smiled in return.

Breakfast was a casual affair, the banter light and easy, as if they did this every day. Well, the breakfast thing was common when they went running in the morning, but normally it was at her parents’. The otherwise quick bites of pastries or fruit in the morning made Marinette really appreciate how nice it was to sit down and eat with someone else. It was so nice, in fact, that it was easy to push aside the memories of last night, and the questions they raised. Marinette was able to avoid the whole issue until their plates were clean, and she was finishing off the last of her orange juice. Adrien was watching her, and she flushed, lowering her glass to the table as she looked at him. His expression was hard to read: while it was open, he was also giving nothing away. Had he gotten better at hiding his emotions from her? Or was there simply nothing for him to hide at the moment?

Marinette bit her lip. He was going to ask that they talk about it, wasn’t he? Was this why he made breakfast? To ambush her?

His lips parted, and she held her breath. This was it—

“I should go,” Adrien said unexpectedly. Marinette blinked at him as he stood up, grabbing his Ladybug jacket from off the back of the chair. “I need to get home before I head to the office…though something tells me I’m in a _lot_ of trouble after going MIA yesterday…”

His cringe put Marinette’s other concerns on the backburner, and she got to her feet.

“I’ll walk you out,” she offered, and Adrien smiled at her as they moved the short distance from the kitchen to the front door together.

Though it was still cold, it was bright outside, the sun shining merrily, as if to make up for lost time during the storm yesterday. Marinette blinked in the brightness, smiling at the sky. It was a lovely shade of blue, and the itch to fly through it began to tug at her. But, she could do Ladybug things later. Right now, it was time to be Marinette.

“Thanks for breakfast,” Marinette told him, leaning against her door frame as Adrien stepped out onto the stairs, tugging his scarf into place around his neck. “And the groceries. Remind me to pay you back later.”

Adrien chuckled.

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured her, turning a smile so dazzling on her that Marinette could only blink at him for a moment, her mind and heart stuttering to a halt. She took a second to restart both and sternly reminded herself to _get a grip._

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” A glint of mischief began to gleam in Adrien’s eyes. “And don’t worry about the new dryer that should be delivered to you sometime tonight; it’s all on me.”

Marinette felt her eyes bug out of her skull.

“What?! Adrien, you did _not_ buy me a new dryer!” She protested, horrified at the thought of how much money that must’ve cost. She didn’t care if he was loaded; she would _not_ have such extravagant things bought for her for no reason!

Her blood pressure threatened to skyrocket, but Adrien laughed, practically guffawing at her expression.

“Actually I didn’t,” he admitted, and Marinette let out a relieved breath. “I knew how you’d react if I did something like that without consulting you first…so I just picked up a home appliance magazine and left it on your coffee table instead.”

Blinking, Marinette glanced over, spotting that there was indeed an unfamiliar magazine waiting for her on her coffee table. Her eyes went back to Adrien, and he winked at her as she stared at him again.

“Just let me know which model, and I’ll make the call.”

“I’m not doing that,” she protested with a shake of her head. “My dryer works just fine.”

Adrien raised an eyebrow, and Marinette huffed, pouting at his nonverbal point.

“Yeah, it takes forever, but it still works. It’d have to be completely broken for me to think about investing in a new one,” she explained. Adrien gave a shrug.

“All right, then. Note to self: break Mari’s dryer the next time I come over.”

“Then you’re never allowed over again,” she decided with a stubborn look. Adrien pouted at her.

“Aw, come on, Mari. I thought you enjoyed my company last night.”

Marinette tried to come up with a witty comeback…but found that she had none. And so she stupidly shut her mouth, her face warming. Adrien blushed as well, but he played it off much better than her, clearing his throat and turning.

“Well, I better go. The fashion industry calls,” he joked, hopping down a step. Marinette watched as he paused, hands stuffed in the pockets of his Ladybug jacket. After a moment, he turned back around, climbing the step again and approaching her. There was an intense look in his eyes, one that threatened to turn Marinette’s knees to jelly the longer she looked at him. He stopped mere centimeters from her, gazing down at her, a war waging in his expression. Marinette held her breath, staring back up at him, waiting…

“…Mari,” he began, his voice low as he stared at her, his face warming, “I want to ask—I mean, you can say no if you want to—but I just want to…can I kiss—”

Before he could finish asking the question, Marinette had stretched onto her toes, her arms encircling his neck as she pressed her lips to his. Her boldness embarrassed her a bit, but hell, after last night, what did she have to be timid about?

Her actions were rewarded by Adrien’s arms slipping around her, holding her close as they enjoyed the kiss. He tasted like strawberries and syrup, and it was with great reluctance that Marinette pulled back, letting out a slow breath as she opened her eyes. Adrien was watching her, his gaze half-lidded, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

“Well, that answers my question,” he teased, and Marinette giggled, a little self-conscious. She let him go, sinking back down to her normal height, and Adrien released her as well, tucking the left side of her hair behind her ear. “I’ll…see you later?”

“Yeah,” Marinette confirmed, answering Adrien’s smile with one of her own. She waited at the door, watching as he headed down the street, wondering if she was imagining the extra pep in his step before she finally closed the door, sighing in contentment. Marinette allowed herself this one, lingering, perfect moment, before she straightened up and made herself face reality again.

So…there was…something…between her and Adrien now.

They never established what this ‘something’ was, nor did Marinette think it would be defined in the very near future. But she didn’t much care.

The only thing she was certain of at this point, in regards to this ‘thing’, was that she definitely didn’t want it to end.

And that put her in a rather difficult position.

Her phone began to ring upstairs. Marinette recognized it as her second alarm, and she cursed, darting into the kitchen quickly for a pack of cookies before she sprinted back up the stairs, tripping on the last one and falling into the room. Grunting, she shook off the commonplace fall, calling for Tikki, who immediately zoomed into view.

“Morning, Marinette!” Tikki chirped, accepting the cookie packet Marinette offered to her for breakfast. “You look happy this morning.”

“Do I?” Marinette asked idly, grabbing her phone to turn off her alarm. Behind her, Tikki giggled.

“I suppose Adrien staying the night helped with that a little, hmm?”

Marinette felt herself go red. _Shit._ She had completely forgotten that Tikki was hidden somewhere in her room all last night…

To avoid her kwami’s gloating look, Marinette focused on her phone. She knew what she had to do now, and she didn’t like it…but there was no other choice. A bet was a bet.

Sighing to herself, Marinette pulled up the texting app on her phone, slowly typing in the words of defeat:

**Marinette: Alya, you are the all-knowing queen of my life, and I am in serious trouble. I need your guidance.**

For a brief moment, Marinette allowed herself to hope that Alya wasn’t awake yet, that this was one of those rare days she allowed herself to sleep in—

No such luck: within seconds, three dots appeared on the screen.

_Alya: FUCK._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one bet Alya was secretly praying Marinette would win, tbh. XD
> 
> Adrien's in trouble, in more ways than one. XD
> 
> Also, the alternate title of this chapter could've been "The Fault in Our Stars", with how many "okay"s that were thrown around. XP Still, I think the chapter title is a good one.
> 
> I contemplated bumping the rating up...but I think I should probably earn the rating change first. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> Oh, btw, the song used for Alya's ringtone is "Count On Me" by Bruno Mars~
> 
> THERE HAS BEEN TOO MUCH FLUFF, and I miss Shell, so next chapter, we'll get ACTION, DAMN IT.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	18. Deception

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a typhoon raging outside, so I'm not going anywhere for a couple days. 
> 
> (LMAO, yeah, the typhoon is the reason I haven't moved from my bed in days. *Snorts*)
> 
> In any case, have a chapter~
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

His phone was ringing.

That was the only sluggish thought that registered with Nino as he slowly woke up, smacking his lips as he rolled over, cracking his eyes open to squint into his room, which was dark, thanks to the fabulous black out curtains that hung over his window. Bless Alya for introducing such technology to him.

“ _She’s my other gun_

_Should I go to war_

_Holdin’ me down,_

_That’s what she’s there for_

_She’s my other gun~_ ”

‘ _Speaking of,_ ’ Nino thought, recognizing the ringtone. He rolled over, squinting at his nightstand. Let’s see…one of these black objects was either his phone or his glasses…the thing lighting up and vibrating was probably the phone.

Nino snagged it off his nightstand and rolled onto his back, answering the call.

“Morning, babe.”

“Hey. Did I wake you up?”

“Mmm,” Nino hummed, pushing himself to sit up. “What time is it?”

“About an hour later than you usually get up. What’s up?”

Ah…that’s right. He’d been out late training with Master Fu last night.

Nino frowned at that. He felt bad for the old master, being out so late and in the cold…but he never complained once as he helped Emerald Shell get a better feel for his powers. Things had been a little quieter lately, but Nino was on edge rather than relieved by it. He was afraid that he and Ladybug would be caught unawares at any time if they ever dared to relax, so Nino was using the extra time to train, since Marinette still had years of experience on him. Nino didn’t want her to have to worry about picking up any slack with him; he wanted to be her teammate, not dead weight. And since she already had an ex-partner that was MIA—

“Nino! You still there?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, babe. Just taking me a little longer to wake up today,” Nino admitted with a yawn. “I was up late working last night.”

“Damn. That record company is running you ragged, isn’t it?” Alya huffed from the other end of the line, and Nino smiled, picturing her disgruntled face on his behalf. He loved her. “Now they’re not letting you sleep? Do I need to go over there and have words with someone?”

“Take it easy, babe. You’ll get me fired.”

“Well, if they’re working you to the bone, maybe you need to quit. Be all badass with it. Pull a Marinette and storm out dramatically. God, I wish I could’ve been there to see that bitch’s face when Mari quit. I bet it was priceless.”

Nino chuckled, reaching for his glasses now and sliding them on. His room came into view, sort of; it was still dark, but Nino knew his own room well enough by now. It was not messy, but comfortably lived in, his clothes from the night before strewn over his computer chair, the light at the bottom of the monitor blinking, indicating that his computer was on sleep mode. Nino ignored all else for a moment, glancing around his room with a frown. Where was Wayzz?

“Anyway,” Alya was saying as Nino scratched the back of his head, reassured by the weight of jade on his wrist. “Tell me you’re free for lunch today.”

Nino eyed his calendar. He had a recording session this morning at ten…hmm…

“I might be,” he hedged, feeling guilty as Alya gave a pointed sigh. “Why, what’s up?”

“You mean other than the fact that I haven’t seen you in three days?” Alya pointed out, and Nino cringed. She let it go soon after, however; apparently something else was much more pressing.

“We need to have an emergency meeting. It’s Code Red, Nino.”

Nino’s eyes widened as he stepped out of his bedroom, his eyes scanning his apartment for Wayzz.

“Code Red? You mean—”

“I just got _the text_ from her two hours ago,” Alya confirmed, her tone grave. “I’m sorry, Nino: I know you guys have gotten close again, but I gotta cut him.”

“Whoa, let’s not be hasty, Alya…”

“I _gotta,_ Nino.”

Ah, found him: the kwami was in the fish bowl on Nino’s kitchen counter, sitting at the very bottom. He appeared to be meditating, and the goldfish above him, Gaspard and Genevie, were paying him absolutely no attention, just swimming around and minding their own fish business. Nino had to pause for a moment and take this in; rare were the times when he witnessed Wayzz doing actual turtle things, and it was highly amusing.

“Do I have to come to lunch to talk you down?” Nino wondered, moving to the fridge to retrieve a tin of sardines. He wrinkled his nose at the smell as he peeled the top back. Ugh. He didn’t get it, but Wayzz was nuts about the stuff.

“If there’s anyone you should be talking down, it’s Marinette,” Alya huffed as Nino set the tin down and gave a slight tap to the fish tank. Wayzz opened his eyes, and Nino waved at him before gesturing to the sardine tin. Smiling, Wayzz zoomed out of the fish tank, drying quickly (Nino blamed magic) before he settled down onto the counter to enjoy his breakfast. “I could only talk to her for a second, because she had to get ready for class, but I can already tell that she’s in too deep. We need to pull her back up, Nino.”

Nino leaned against the kitchen counter, equal parts amused and confused.

“Wait a second…remind me, why is it such a bad thing for her to have feelings for Adrien again? I mean, I know dude’s been fucked up for a while, but he’s getting better. I wouldn’t be putting up with him if he wasn’t.”

“Yeah, but Nino, do you honestly believe he’s in a good enough mental place to be dating? Dating _Marinette,_ especially?”

“Whoa, why’d we jump to dating? Are they dating?”

Alya gave a short huff.

“I don’t know. The only thing Mari told me was that there _might_ be feelings surfacing again. Psh. ‘Might’ my ass. She was damn giddy about _something_ when I was talking to her…”

“So let me get this straight: the guns are out before we know if there’s a situation _to_ worry about?” Nino paused, smiling a little at the sudden silence on Alya’s end. “Are we jumping the gun a little, babe?”

“No,” Alya replied, her tone several shades of defensive. “I just think we need to be on high alert for the inevitable.”

“So it’s not Code Red, but rather Code Pink: there _might_ be a situation, but we don’t have enough evidence to justify this big deal we’re making out of it.”

“Shut up, I know I’m right. In any case, _you_ just worry about showing up for lunch. I invited Marinette, too, so we’ll sort this mess out, then.”

“Aw, you’re not gonna make me help you double team her, are you? Come on, Alya.”

“Nooo, you’re going to be there as our Adrien informant. Speaking of, see what you can wheedle out of him before lunch. I want all the facts before I go in and try to straighten things out.”

Nino sighed, resigned.

“Yes, dear.”

“Good. See you at noon at our favorite sushi place?”

“I have a recording at ten, so I might be late.”

Alya gave another sigh.

“You better be making bank with all this work you’re doing. Are you _sure_ I don’t need to have words with someone over at Bob Ross Records?”

Nino grinned. Aw, his scary, protective girlfriend was so cute.

“I love you too, babe.”

“Okay, okay…I gotta go to my next class, so I’d better see you later.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“All right. Don’t work yourself too hard, you hear me? I love you.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

“Good morning, Nino,” Wayzz greeted politely as Nino hung up, pausing in between bites of sardine. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a rock.” Nino rolled his shoulder with a slight wince. “Just wish this soreness would go away.”

“What is that human phrase…‘no pain, no gain’?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nino huffed, lifting his glasses to rub the sleep out of his eyes. “I guess it helps to train ‘til I drop, anyway. It’s been too quiet, lately.”

“I agree,” Wayzz said, worry creasing his tiny green brow. “The erratic attack pattern of our enemy is most troubling. For all his obvious faults, Hawk Moth, at the very least, was consistent.”

Hawk Moth…Adrien’s dad, the late Gabriel Agreste. So much about the man had abruptly made sense once his supervillain identity was revealed…and yet, his death had managed to hurt his son much more than Gabriel himself had ever hurt Adrien when he was alive. Nino huffed and shook his head. Thank god his friend was finally climbing out of the pit that was his father’s shadow. It couldn’t be easy, but Nino was proud of him for trying.

His phone buzzed and rang for the second time, and Nino picked it up, wondering if Alya was calling to remind him about some little detail about today’s ambush that she had forgotten. But the ringtone was different, and it was Adrien’s name that flashed across the screen now.

Curious, because Adrien didn’t generally call him, Nino answered.

“Yo, dude. What’s up?”

“Hey,” Adrien replied in a hoarse, scratchy voice that made Nino frown.

“Adrien? You okay, man?”

“Fine. I…” there was a sudden explosive sneeze, followed by a sigh. “I think I might be coming down with a cold.”

Oh, that sucked.

“You need anything?”

“Nah. I’m gonna be in bed for most of the day…but I did wanna talk to you today, if you have the time…”

Nino raised an eyebrow knowingly, though he knew Adrien couldn’t see him.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with ‘Nette, would it?”

There was a sputtering noise on the other end of the line.

“I didn’t—who said anything about—I don’t know what you’re—”

“Dude, I’m friends with ‘Nette, remember? And what’s more, I’m dating her _best friend._ There are no secrets in this group because word travels so fast.”

…Well, there were some secrets, actually. But those were the kinds of secrets that had to be taken to the grave, for the safety of everyone involved.

Adrien sighed in defeat.

“Okay…yeah, it’s about Marinette. I…might’ve done something stupid…but I can’t figure out on my own whether or not it was stupid. I could really use a friend’s opinion.”

Nino smiled.

“Well, I have some time before I have to go to work…gimme half an hour to get dressed, and I’ll swing by with some soup and a sympathetic ear.”

“Thanks, Nino. You’re the best.”

“I know. See you soon, dude.”

For the second time that morning, Nino hung up his phone. With a quick pat to Wayzz’s head, Nino headed for his bathroom to shower. Looked like he was going to be a little busier today than he’d originally planned for…

Well, that wasn’t a problem. Nino would take this kind of busy over “akuma” busy any day.

 

* * *

 

“Dude. You look like shit.”

Nino didn’t bother to hide his smirk at the unamused look Adrien gave him. But he _did_ look like he needed a day of bed rest: his face was flushed and sweaty, hair matted to his forehead and the back of his neck. He sneezed as he stepped back to let Nino in, and Nino cringed, taking a pointed step away from him.

“Ugh. Maybe I should just let you rest…”

“I’m fine,” Adrien insisted stubbornly, despite the fact that he sounded a lot more stuffed up then he had when Nino had spoken to him on the phone. With a wave, Adrien invited him upstairs, and Nino followed, cautiously watching his friend for any sign that he might pass out.

“Wow. Your room is a lot less exciting than your teenage room,” Nino remarked, startled by the lack of arcade games and the rock climbing wall. Adrien snorted to himself as he climbed into his bed.

“Yeah. I didn’t need all the distractions anymore, now that I’m not confined to my room half the time.”

Oh, right.

Nino cringed and hastily changed the subject.

“Here’s your soup when you want it,” he announced, lifting the container full of hot pea soup he’d picked up on the way. He moved to the side of Adrien’s bed, letting the container sit on Adrien’s nightstand, since he didn’t look like he was ready for soup just yet.

“Thanks,” Adrien mumbled, shifting on his pillows with a sigh. He pushed his hair out of his red face, looking downright miserable. Nino felt for him…but not enough to get too close to potentially catch that cold. Instead he carefully perched himself on the very end of Adrien’s bed, giving his friend a concerned look.

“How’d you get sick, anyway?”

Adrien reached over, seizing a tissue from the box on his nightstand right before he sneezed. Sniffling into the tissue, he answered Nino.

“Might’ve spent a bit too much time out in the rain yesterday without an umbrella.”

Nino gave him a flat look.

“ _Dude._ ”

“I know, I know, Marinette already gave me an earful, trust me,” Adrien sniffed. “This sucks. I thought I was fine earlier this morning…but it snuck up on me. My secretary had to send me home, ‘cause it looked like I was gonna pass out.”

“You still look like you’re gonna pass out,” Nino remarked, frowning in concern. “You sure I shouldn’t just let you sleep?”

Adrien frowned at Nino through his exhaustion.

“I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. I’ve spent all morning thinking about…what happened…with Marinette.”

Nino’s eyebrows shot up.

“So something _did_ happen?”

Adrien blinked at him.

“I thought you already knew?”

“Dude, all I know is that Alya’s up in arms because ‘Nette sent her a text—”

Wait…maybe he should be careful about what exactly he divulged here…

Shaking his head, Nino tried again.

“Actually, I don’t know any concrete details. But I _do_ know that Alya’s on high alert.” At Adrien’s groan, Nino’s eyebrows climbed higher, disappearing into his hair line. “Does she have reason to be on high alert, man? What did you do?”

Nino couldn’t be sure, but he rather felt that Adrien’s face grew redder, if that was possible.

“I…might have spent the night at Marinette’s,” he mumbled, not quite meeting Nino’s eyes as he gaped at Adrien.

“Whoa, _what?!_ ”

“Nothing happened,” Adrien protested, sniffling. He paused, and then added in a begrudging tone, “Well…something happened. But all we did was kiss.”

“You kissed her?”

“Er…technically, she kissed me,” Adrien said, his eyes far away, a familiar dream-like film taking them over. Nino had learned to recognize this look by now. “But I didn’t stop her…and I didn’t not respond, either…and things kind of…escalated a bit…”

Nino stared at Adrien for a long moment…and then a wicked grin split his face.

“I _knew_ it,” he crowed, pointing a finger at a shocked-looking Adrien. “Dude, I _knew_ you were falling for her!”

“Wha—did not,” Adrien protested around a sneeze and a cough. “How could you know when _I_ didn’t even realize it until, like, a couple weeks ago?”

“‘Cause I’m smarter than you,” Nino said simply, grinning at Adrien’s put-out expression. “Seriously, dude, it wasn’t hard. Ever since we started hanging out again, you haven’t shut up about her. And you’re wearing her charm bracelet, like you’re a teenage girl with her boyfriend’s jacket… _some_ of us can read between the lines, man.”

Adrien blushed, his fingertips brushing across said charm bracelet on his right wrist.

“Men can wear bracelets,” he grumbled, eyeing Nino. “ _You’ve_ started wearing one.”

Nino not-so-subtly moved his hands in between his legs to hide his bracelet from view. Best to leave that can of worms the hell alone.

“Touché,” he allowed, grinning a bit. “And I wasn’t making fun of you wearing the bracelet, I was making fun of the fact that it’s _Marinette’s_ bracelet. Admit it, dude: you’re a lovesick puppy when it comes to her.”

“I am not lovesick,” Adrien grumbled, though his pout and the heat in his face were more than telling.

“Uh-huh,” Nino drawled, inspecting his friend and the way he sunk into his pillows in defeat. Dude was so far gone he didn’t even realize it…or maybe he did and was just denying it because he was embarrassed? “I know how you act when you have a crush, dude. Remember when we were teenagers, and you had that super-obvious crush on Ladybug?”

Now Adrien’s face turned completely red. Nino felt a little bad…but his main reaction was amusement as Adrien briefly floundered, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

‘ _This man is twenty-two years old,_ ’ Nino thought to himself with a soft snort. His poor, oblivious friend.

“H-how—when—” Adrien’s sputtering was interrupted by another sneeze, and Nino’s pity increased. “How did you know I—that I—”

As he struggled with words, Nino raised an eyebrow at him.

“Seriously, Adrien? Do you not remember when Jackady took over the television studio during my audition for The Challenge? The minute I found you again, once you saw Ladybug, you pushed me out of the way just to say hi to her.” He couldn’t help but snort at the chagrined expression on Adrien’s face. “Yeah, don’t think I didn’t know what was going on there.”

And oh, wasn’t the irony ridiculous, now that Nino knew what he knew? If Adrien ever found out, Nino was certain his head would explode.

Adrien hid his face behind his hands and groaned, followed by a cough. At the reminder that he was ill, Nino decided to ease up on the teasing…at least until Adrien was well enough to take it, anyway.

“So,” he said, folding his arms and glancing away from Adrien, “you said on the phone that you were afraid you did something stupid…did you mean kissing ‘Nette?”

Adrien was quiet. Nino focused his gaze outside his window, watching what was undoubtedly a chilly breeze blow through the trees in his backyard. Finally, the sigh drew his attention back to his friend, who stared down at his lap, fingers idly shifting the bracelet on his wrist.

“…Yeah,” he admitted. As Adrien reached up to rub the back of his neck, Nino frowned.

“Why do you think it was stupid? She kissed you back, right? It was consensual, wasn’t it?”

“Of course,” Adrien replied, frowning, “but now I’m thinking…maybe I should’ve kept my lips to myself.”

Nino snorted at the turn of phrase, grinning an apology when Adrien turned an anxious gaze onto him.

“Sorry…go on.”

Adrien shook his head.

“There’s not much else to tell. I’m just…stunned at myself, I guess. I thought I had better control than this…but I guess I should’ve known better.” He gave a humorless laugh. “When do I _not_ act on impulse?”

Nino frowned. Adrien wasn’t being very clear, here…what, exactly, was the problem?

“So, you like ‘Nette. And it seems that ‘Nette likes you, too,” he summarized, lifting and dropping a shoulder. “What’s wrong with that?”

Adrien sat up straight with a sigh, pushing sweaty hair out of his face and coughing a little.

“The problem is that I’m still under construction,” Adrien replied. At Nino’s confused look, he smiled a little. “You know…a work in progress. I’m still trying to un-screw myself up; I have no business looking for a relationship right now. And I _wasn’t_ looking for one…but things just happened last night…and I…”

Nino stared as Adrien’s feverish face grew desperate.

“…I don’t want to hurt her, Nino,” he admitted in a low voice.

Suddenly, Nino was fifteen years old again, watching the awkward new kid sit next to him after being chewed out for a crime he didn’t commit. When asked why, he had said, with much the same look he was wearing now, that he couldn’t betray the only friend he had.

In that moment, Nino had known that this was a kid who needed him, his council and his friendship, to help him adjust to public school, and life outside his ivory tower.

And now, looking into his friend’s flushed and hopeless face, Nino felt a similar call to action. Poor guy was so worried about Marinette…how could Nino _not_ help?

Heaving a sigh, Nino quirked a brow at Adrien.

“Okay…I’m guessing you haven’t talked to ‘Nette about all this, yet.”

Adrien dropped his eyes to his lap, cradling his bracelet again.

“I don’t want her to hate me,” he mumbled, and then sneezed. As he sniffled and reached for his tissue box, Nino pulled out his phone, sending a quick text before focusing on Adrien again.

“You got cold medicine?”

“No,” Adrien said around the tissue pressed to his face. “It’s probably a bad idea for me to go out in the cold, sick.”

Nino nodded his agreement as his phone buzzed in his lap. He opened the text, smiled, and stood up.

“Well, I gotta go, but I think you’ll be in good hands for the rest of the morning.” As he adjusted his scarf, he grinned over at Adrien. “‘Nette just texted me. She’s on the way with some cold meds for you.”

Adrien’s face grew impossibly redder at the news, his eyes widening to an enormous degree. Nino snickered, hopping lightly out of reach when Adrien made to swipe at him. Damn, for a sick dude, he was still pretty agile.

“Nino!” Adrien hissed, looking horrified. “How could you? We’re supposed to be friends!”

“Ah, but I did it _because_ we’re friends,” Nino assured him with a smirk. “If you wanna work this out, you gotta talk to ‘Nette. You know…” he gave a comforting smile. “Just be yourself.”

Adrien blinked, seeming to register the familiar words. He smiled for a moment, the both of them remembering a day long past that had changed their lives forever. But all too soon, the stress returned to Adrien’s face.

“But…I don’t know what she’s expecting of me. I don’t know what to say.”

“Just be honest.”

“But what if the truth hurts her?”

Nino paused to think about that.

“Well then, I guess you’re gonna have to go into hiding if you don’t want my girlfriend harvesting your organs,” he suggested lightly, chuckling until he registered how pale Adrien’s face became. “Dude, I’m _kidding._ Seriously, ‘Nette’s a big girl. You should be able to talk this out like rational adults…but then again, considering who I’m talking to…”

“Get out,” Adrien huffed, flinging a pillow at Nino, who dodged around it easily as he moved to exit the room.

“Haha, relax, man, really. As long as you’re open and honest, it’ll be fine, promise.” He paused at the door, giving Adrien a look. “Have I ever steered you wrong before?”

Adrien pouted, but the way he slumped into his pillows suggested that he had been defeated once and for all.

“I guess not…” A begrudging smile twisted his lips. “Guess you _are_ smarter than me.”

“Damn right,” Nino joked, pointing a finger gun at Adrien with a wink. “See you later, dude. Get well, soon.”

“Thanks, Nino.”

“No problem.”

 

* * *

 

Emerald Shell grunted as he threw up his shield once again, blocking the javelin zinging his way. But Paladin seemed to never run out of them—in fact, the one he threw kept reappearing in his hand, whole and unbroken, at lightning speed. A magic javelin. How annoying.

“Uh, LB? How’s it going with the Lucky Charm?”

“I’m working on it!” Ladybug snarled fiercely as she dodged another toss of Paladin’s javelin. “But if I sit still too long, I’m gonna get skewered!” She twirled out of the way of the javelin, ending up back to back with Shell. “You need to distract him!” She hissed, apparently unfazed as Shell turned to gape at her.

“Distract him how?”

“I don’t know, just do it!”

And suddenly, she was gone. Groaning, Shell peeked out from behind his shield, registering that Paladin was raising his javelin again, poised to strike.

“Whoa, dude, just chill!” He protested, holding his free hand up in an attempt to make a peace offering. “What’s your deal, anyway? What’re you so pissed off about?”

Paladin paused in his pose.

“I am Paladin. I seek to conquer this territory for my king.”

“Yeah, you said that,” Shell reminded him, frowning at the strange figure that had just popped up from nowhere, introduced himself and his purpose, and then started chucking a spear at him and Ladybug without further ado. And to think, if they hadn’t already been on patrol tonight… “Who’s your king, anyway?”

“I serve King Arthur.”

Shell blinked.

“Like…the fabled King Arthur? Uh…I don’t think he actually existed, dude.”

Paladin lowered his javelin, his silver armor gleaming in the moonlight.

“We seek to conquer France in the name of King Arthur.”

“ _All_ of France?” Shell questioned, raising his eyebrows behind his mask. “That’s a big job…is it just you, or do you have all of the Knights of the Round Table helping you out?”

“The time for talk is past,” Paladin said abruptly, raising his javelin. “Either kneel and swear fealty to my king, or be torn asunder, knave!”

“‘Knave’?” Shell questioned, raising his shield again, keeping his gaze carefully focused on Paladin, and not on the red and black spotted woman sneaking up behind him. “Wow, talk about a throwback. You’re getting a little too into this roleplay, aren’t you?”

“This is no game, knave,” Paladin replied, his tone not changing once throughout the whole conversation. “Either kneel or die.”

“Uh, I’ll take option C: neither,” Shell answered, and without warning, he rushed forward, holding his shield high. Though the helmet blocked Paladin’s face from view, Shell’s sudden rush undoubtedly took him by surprise; he hesitated in his throw, and that was all Ladybug needed to strike. She snatched the javelin from Paladin’s hands, and Shell bashed him, the shield knocking him to the ground. As Paladin groaned on the ground, Ladybug snapped his javelin over her knee. Shell watched, wide eyed, as the akuma tried to make a break for it as usual, its black and purple wings shimmering in the moonlight.

“You’ve caused enough trouble, akuma,” Ladybug called, opening the healing chamber of her yo-yo before she whirled it around, preparing to catch the escaping akuma. “I free you from—?!”

As her yo-yo swung around to capture the akuma, something went wrong. The catch was completed…but instead of being caught, the akuma broke in half. Shell and Ladybug stared as the two pieces of the akuma fluttered to the ground.

“…What the hell?” Shell asked after a bewildered moment. The sound of his voice seemed to unfreeze Ladybug; she stumbled forward, leaning over to inspect the shredded akuma. Shell approached as well, watching as she carefully lifted one half of the akuma. “Did…did you _kill_ it?”

“No!” She protested, throwing him a scowl. “This…I don’t know what this is.”

Shell reached over, lifting the other half of the shredded akuma. Even though he held it delicately, it began to flake and splinter. A moment later, it crumbled, leaving behind nothing but a pile of ash. Shell turned his perturbed gaze upon Ladybug once again, who regarded him with as much confusion and dread as he was feeling on the inside.

“ _Can_ akuma die?”

“I…I don’t know.” Ladybug gripped her chin, staring at the last bit of akuma that was left in her hand. “It’s…it’s almost like this wasn’t an akuma at all…but a shell.”

“What does _that_ mean?”

“It _means_ it probably wasn’t the true akuma; just a distraction.”

“The Butterfly can _do_ that?”

“Apparently.”

Shell swore, scratching the back of his hooded head.

“I gotta tell ya, LB, the more we fight this guy, the less we know about him, and it’s starting to make me really—LB, MOVE!”

Shell didn’t have time to wait for her to react; he tackled her out of the way just as Paladin’s javelin embedded itself where Ladybug was crouching not two seconds ago. Shell’s heart was pounding in his chest, and when he heard the clanking of metal drawing closer, he knew what he had to do.

Raising his shield, he called forth upon the power of his Miraculous:

“Force Field: Activate!”

His shield sparked to life; several strands of neon green light exploded from it, crisscrossing around him and Ladybug, creating a diamond patterned shield of energy around them that spanned about five meters in all directions. Shell’s shield revolved slowly at the top of the dome, keeping the force field in place. Outside of the protective field, Paladin raised his javelin to grind against it. Shell held his breath, but his worry was unfounded—the force field repelled any outside attack, just as it should. Thank god he’d finally gotten the hang of it the other night when he was training with Master Fu.

That didn’t seem to discourage Paladin, who kept striking the force field with all of his strength. Shell was so focused on watching him fail that Ladybug’s short intake of breath startled him, and he wheeled around, following her eyes to—

“Aw _fuck._ He has friends,” Shell groaned, watching as three more armor-clad figures come from nowhere, these three carrying a sword, an axe, and a mace, respectively. All at once, they began bashing their weapons against the force field, looking for some kind of give. Ladybug clutched at Shell’s arm, eyes that were tight with anxiousness going to him.

“Shell, how long can you hold this force field?”

“For as long as I need to,” Shell replied, feeling a little proud when Ladybug’s eyes rounded in surprise. “It’ll stay until I call it down…” He scowled. “But while we’re safe in here—”

“We’re also helpless,” Ladybug concluded grimly. Shell watched as her eyes darted around, appearing to take inventory of the situation. He expected her to turn to him with a ready plan after a minute or two…so the longer she remained silent, the more worried he grew.

“Uh, LB? What do we do?”

“…”

“Ladybug?”

“I…I don’t know.”

Shell felt himself go cold.

Those were _not_ encouraging words from Ladybug’s mouth.

“You…don’t know?”

“No,” Ladybug huffed, stress and frustration clear in her face as her eyes kept darting around to focus on one knight at a time. “I can’t tell which one of them has the real akuma…and with four of them on us, guessing wrong would be—”

The point was driven home by the sounds of sharp and deadly weapons being struck mercilessly against the force field. Shell cringed.

“Would a Lucky Charm get us out of this?” He asked, eyeing Ladybug’s yo-yo. She gazed down at it herself, biting her lip.

“I don’t know…”

“Well we have to do _something._ ”

“I know! I just…” She huffed, pressing her fingertips to her temple. “I can’t think straight with all that noise! I don’t know what to do!”

Seeing Ladybug doubt herself was an unpleasant sight. It plucked violently at the strings within Shell’s heart, and he squared his shoulders. Ladybug didn’t have a plan, but that was fine. Given the circumstances, it didn’t seem like a ready-made plan would help them now anyway; too many variables to consider.

And that’s where winging it came into play.

“Halt!” He called, raising his hands over his head as he addressed the knights attacking his force field. “We, uh, seek, er…parlay! Yeah, parlay!”

“What are you doing?” Ladybug hissed, jumping to her feet. Shell leaned over to whisper to her, barely moving his lips.

“Just trust me.”

“But parlay’s for _pirates!_ ”

“Shh!”

The knights paused in their assault on the force field. Shell tentatively took that as a good sign.

“We seek an audience with your king!” He continued, hands still raised so they could see them. “We want to, uh, negotiate our, um, surrender!”

“Shelly!”

“ _Shush,_ LB! Do you wanna get out of this or not?”

“But what do you _mean_ , we surrender?! And _what_ king?!”

Shell was not required to answer; the knight with the sword sheathed it in favor of a medieval-looking trumpet, which he gave a couple of short blasts.

“All hail King Arthur!” The knights called in unison, and then all knelt as a figure suddenly appeared before them, as if the trumpet and the chant had summoned it. With a swish of a red cloak, a black crown on his head, the supposed King Arthur strode forward to reveal himself…

…As a pre-teen with a smug little grin and an obviously inflated ego. As he stood before Shell’s force field, standing as proud and tall as he could, though he looked as if he only came up to Shell’s stomach, Shell was unable to hold back his loud snort.

“ _You’re_ King Arthur?” He questioned, amusement swelling within him. “What’re you, like, twelve?”

“Treason!” Cried Paladin, evidently forgetting that the force field was still in effect; he rushed forward, but was bounced back, falling onto his backside. King Arthur raised a hand, his smug smirk unchanging.

“Well, well: Ladybug and…a turtle man? How disappointing, I was expecting Chat Noir. Ah, no matter: I’m sure I’ll find a place for you in my collection, regardless of your…obscurity.”

Shell made a face.

“Ugh, he’s _English_ ,” he said with distaste, picking up on the language change and the accent. Ladybug spared him an eye roll before turning her attention back on the self-proclaimed king.

“What do you mean, ‘your collection’?” She asked in English, “All you want is to collect something?”

“Um, _duh,_ ” the king drawled, yanking out a handful of action figures from somewhere in his cloak. “That’s why my knights have been marching through the streets of this city! I need new action figures! The ones they’ve collected so far are all right, I suppose, but to have _legitimate_ heroes as action figures? I’d be quite please, wouldn’t you?”

“Quite,” Shell answered with an exaggerated British accent, only allowing himself to mock the akuma because he was so relieved that the knights hadn’t been outright killing people, just turning them into playthings for a kid’s amusement. _That_ was reversible, at least. His cheek was not appreciated by Ladybug, however, and she nudged him in the side to shut him up.

“Yes, well…you’re surrendering to me, aren’t you? If you’ll lower this force field or whatever, we can get started.” King Arthur smirked. “It would be quite an honor for you to be a part of my army, wouldn’t it?”

“Did Chloe have a kid while we weren’t looking?” Shell asked in an undertone to Ladybug, who bit her lip, but her smile still slipped through.

“Hello?” King Arthur called, knocking on the force field, a frown beginning to pucker his brow. “Are you coming out, or do I have to send my knights in?”

“I’d love to see you try,” Shell taunted him in French. King Arthur clearly did not appreciate the language change, and his attitude began to sour because of it.

“No French,” he ordered, pointing an accusing finger at them. “If you are to address me, you will do so in English. I command it.”

“You can’t do much from out there, shrimp,” Shell answered, still in French, daring to grin as King Arthur’s face began to flush in anger.

“Stop it, I say!” He barked, stomping a foot.

“Stop it, I say!” Shell mocked him, mimicking his actions. When King Arthur bared his teeth, so did Shell, which caused the king to roar in frustration.

“I will not be made a fool of in my _own_ kingdom! Knights! Attack!”

As the onslaught on the force field began once again, Shell took to making faces at King Arthur, since there was absolutely nothing he could do to get at them, no matter how loudly he cried for his knights to _break the force field already!_ He only paused to shoot a look at Ladybug, who was watching him with a peculiar look on her face.

“…Well? Aren’t you gonna do a Lucky Charm now that our actual target is here?” He reminded her. Ladybug blinked, tearing her gaze away from him with a bittersweet smile.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, reaching for her yo-yo. “You just…reminded me of someone for a second, there…”

“…” Shell said nothing…but he knew that look by now. It looked like he and Ladybug would have to have a conversation later…

“Lucky Charm!”

Shell squinted at the thing that landed in Ladybug’s hands.

“Is that…?”

Ladybug snorted, a wry smile crossing her features.

“It is.”

Shell shook his head.

“Well…whatever works, right?”

“Yeah.” She drew closer to him, bending at the knees, looking like she was ready to dodge out of the way. “On three?”

“Sure. One—”

“—Two—”

“THREE!” They shouted together, Shell calling for his shield, and subsequently, the force field, to drop. Once it did, Ladybug rolled out of the way as the four knights stumbled forward, the sudden removal of the protective field unexpected. They tripped and blundered forward, and Shell rolled out of there as well, letting the four knights crash into each other and collapse into a heap of metal.

“What are you _idiots_ doing?!” Cried King Arthur, now on the verge of a downright tantrum. “Must I do everything _myself?! Useless, unworthy peons!_ ”

Wow, ‘peons’. This kid was waaay too into his roleplay.

Luckily, Ladybug chose that moment to distract him.

“Hey, look what I’ve got!” She called to the king, waving around the action figure in her hands. “It’s a one-of-a-kind Chat Noir action figure!”

King Arthur’s head snapped up, his greedy little eyes zeroing in on the figure in Ladybug’s hands.

“Chat Noir…he’s one of the figures I’m missing from my collection! Give him to me! Gimme!”

“Do you _know_ the word ‘please’?” Shell growled, but King Arthur paid him no mind, rushing instead to Ladybug and jumping up and down, attempting to grab the figure she held just out of his reach.

“I _command_ you to give it to me, woman!” King Arthur roared, and Shell twitched, annoyed that such a snot-nosed brat had the _nerve_ to speak to Ladybug like that. But she appeared completely unruffled, merely tilting her head to the side with an innocent look on her face.

“Oh, you want this?”

“ _Yes_ I want it! _Give it to me!!!_ ”

Ladybug shrugged.

“Well, okay…”

Without warning, she cocked her arm back and flung the figurine at Shell.

“Go get it!” She encouraged with a wicked grin. As King Arthur whirled around and cried out, Shell caught the figurine effortlessly, grinning now as he waved it tauntingly in front of the self-proclaimed king. As he ran forward to claim it from Shell, Ladybug snagged the dark crown from his hair.

“Hey!” He called, whirling to face her again, but it was too late; he and Shell could only watch as Ladybug tossed the brittle crown to the ground, and it broke in half. At last, the akuma popped out, and when Ladybug captured it, it did not break apart like the false akuma, but was safely purified.

“Aw, I wanted to play Keep Away some more,” Shell teased as he tossed the figurine back into Ladybug’s awaiting hand. She gave him a good-natured eye roll.

“You’ll get over it.” She tossed the spotted Chat Noir figurine into the air. “Miraculous Ladybug!”

People abruptly reappeared in the streets from the figurines King Arthur had hoarded, looking dazed and confused. The four knights shed their armor, revealing…

“They’re all _kids!_ ” Shell exclaimed, indignation beginning to take over as he inspected the blanket capes and rubber swords. “I don’t believe this! We were being intimidated by little punks in Halloween costumes and toy weapons!”

“Urgh…huh…wha…where am I?” Asked the child formally known as King Arthur, blinking as he glanced around him. Shell was surprised to find that he could speak French perfectly well…huh, was he pretending for the sake of his akumatized persona? Shell watched as Ladybug leaned over, placing the restored crown back on his head, a knowing look in her eyes.

“Let me guess…a D&D game gone wrong?” She asked. The kid blinked at her, startled.

“‘Wrong’? I mean, yeah, I think we were playing D&D…but not a lot’s clear after the characters entered the Enchanted Forest…I had this whole plot point set up, I think, and…oh yeah, they were trying to go off script!” Getting to his feet, the kid pointed an accusing finger at his friends, who all struggled to untangle themselves from each other. “You jerks! You really don’t appreciate all the work I went through to set up this campaign for you, do you?!”

‘ _Nerds,_ ’ Shell thought teasingly to himself; the kid who was formally King Arthur seemed a little too sensitive to teasing for him to say the word out loud. Shell just decided to leave the situation to Ladybug, who patted the kid on his back.

“Now, now…half the fun of D&D is enjoying the surprises, right?” She reminded him with a smile. The kid regarded her doubtfully.

“What do you know about D&D? You’re a _girl._ ”

“Little shit,” Shell muttered under his breath, and Ladybug threw him a sharp glance before returning her attention to the kid.

“Well, I have to admit that I don’t play D&D, but I _do_ know how fun games like it can be. But it’s important not to lose your temper, because it’s supposed to be fun, right? As Dungeon Master, you’re trusted to come up with a good story, but you also have to roll with the surprises, right? Your friends wouldn’t have chosen you as Dungeon Master if they didn’t think you’d be really good at it, despite going off-script, right?”

As Ladybug smiled encouragingly, Shell watched in amusement as the kid’s face flushed. Poor twelve-year-old kid…he had a long battle ahead of him when it came to girls.

“I…I guess not,” the kid stuttered, and was rewarded with a head pat from Ladybug.

“Atta boy.” She straightened up, hands on her hips. “Now I want you and your friends to go home. It’s cold out here, and you shouldn’t be out so late, anyway. Your parents must be worried, and you can’t finish your campaign if you’re wandering around out here, right?”

“Uh, right…” With another flustered glance to Ladybug, the kid ran past Shell to his friends. “Uh, sorry, guys, for getting so mad before. Do you, uh…wanna finish the story?”

“Of course,” said the kid that was formerly Paladin, grinning toothily. “It was actually getting interesting before we got, uh, interrupted.”

His friends murmured their agreement, and former King Arthur smiled before he turned and led his merry band of nerds down the street, eager to return to their realm of make-believe. Shell shrugged. He didn’t really get it…but considering the fact that he was currently dressed in a green turtle suit, he didn’t have much room to taunt and tease.

“You know, you probably made him fall in love with you just then,” Shell remarked as Ladybug approached. She snorted softly.

“He’s a kid; he can’t even _spell_ ‘love’.”

“Don’t underestimate him because he’s young,” Shell warned her in a dire tone that was ruined by his grin. “He nearly conquered Paris in one night in his very short reign as king.”

“Hmm. Well, I _have_ always wanted my own kingdom,” Ladybug mused as she and Shell scampered off before press or protesters could catch them unaware. “You know, big castle, moat, drawbridge—”

“I know someone who’s rich enough to pull that off,” Shell teased, grinning when Ladybug’s face flushed red to match her mask. “How’re things going with him, by the way?”

“You are cordially invited to mind your own business,” Ladybug huffed at him, not quite meeting his eyes as Shell snickered at her. “You’re almost as bad as Alya.”

Shell’s grin died at the mention of his girlfriend.

“Speaking of…she’s pissed at me, isn’t she?”

Ladybug side-eyed him as they ran through the streets of Paris.

“You _did_ skip out on us for lunch yesterday. And I doubt it helps that we were both too busy to join her at Francoise’s today.”

Shell sighed as they paused to climb onto his favorite rooftop, the sight of the Seine gorgeous at this height. He kept his eyes focused on the river as he grumbled.

“Recording ran over yesterday. There was nothing I could do about it. Couple that with meeting Master Fu today when we were supposed to meet her for ice cream—” He gave a sigh, scratching the back of his hooded head. “This is hard, LB.”

Ladybug laid a brief, understanding hand on his shoulder as they leapt from the rooftop and raced off to complete their patrol.

“I know, Shell. I wish there was another way, too. But we’re still doing her birthday thing next week, right?”

“Oh, for sure,” Shell agreed, pacing his breath as they ran. “At this point, it’s not about just wanting to do it anymore: I _need_ this to make up for being a complete ass to her for so long. I can’t believe she hasn’t dumped my ass yet.”

“Alya wouldn’t do that. She loves you.”

“Yeah, but have I shown that I love _her_ lately?”

Ladybug’s Miraculous gave a beep, and they paused, her hand going to it.

“How many dots?”

“Three,” Shell replied, counting quickly. Ladybug gave a shrug.

“Then we have time.”

“Yeah.” He eyed her for a moment as they paused to survey the area yet again. “So, since we have time, I gotta ask you: you miss Chat Noir, don’t you?”

Ladybug froze, her gaze turned away from him.

“Didn’t I say you should mind your own business, Shelly?”

Shell frowned.

“Aren’t we teammates, Dots?”

Ladybug turned, giving him an incredulous look. Shell grinned at her.

“What? You’re not the only one who can come up with stupid nicknames.” His smile faded after a second. “Seriously, LB, talk to me.”

Ladybug regarded him for a long moment. Shell kept her gaze, patiently waiting. Finally, she seemed to give up, and she sank down on their current rooftop with a sigh, drawing her legs up to her chest, her arms folded under them. She waited until Shell sat down too, an arm draped over a bent knee, before she spoke.

“Yes, I miss him. It’s stupid, I know. And I can’t really explain it right…but when he’s not here…things don’t feel the same.”

Shell didn’t know what to say. Just as Ladybug couldn’t explain it, he didn’t really get it, and it made him frown. After everything the guy had done, how could she still want him around? Wasn’t Shell himself doing a pretty good job? Or did it not matter because he would never be Chat Noir?

As if she could feel him doubting himself—or maybe his feelings were obvious on his face—Ladybug bumped his shoulder with hers.

“This isn’t to say I think any less of you, Shell,” she told him seriously. “You’ve been a godsend, honestly. If it weren’t for you when Poseidon showed up last month, I’d be dead. You’ve had only a short time to adapt, but you’ve been so amazing, and I’m proud of you.” She smiled. “Thank you, Shell.”

Shell could feel himself warm, and he laughed, rubbing the back of his hooded head.

“Well, I think you’re pretty great too, LB,” he replied with a grin, and Ladybug’s smile widened. “I just worry sometimes…I can tell you’re missing him by the look on your face when we beat an akuma. I just wish you didn’t have to.”

Ladybug laughed softly at that.

“Believe me, I wish I didn’t have to, either. Stupid rogue cat.” She sighed, straightening her legs before she got up, standing tall, her silhouette striking an impressive figure against the moon and stars of the nighttime scenery. Standing there like that, if Shell didn’t know any better, he would claim that this was, without a doubt, a woman who needed no support, who could stand on her own and be the hero Paris needed, and then some.

…But because he _did_ know her so well, Shell knew what the height of such a pedestal did to Ladybug. And because he hated to see her alone up there, he stood with her, giving her back a pat.

“Well, I don’t get it…but I’ll leave it alone,” he promised her with a solemn nod. “You can’t help who you care about, right?”

Ladybug sighed again, giving him a wry look.

“Don’t I wish,” she said dryly, and their chuckling was interrupted by the beeping of her Miraculous once again.

“Come on. Let’s finish up our patrol before you turn back,” Shell insisted, hopping onto his hover board to glide back down to the ground. He heard Ladybug huff behind him as she touched down onto the street, releasing her yo-yo from the roof.

“It is _so_ unfair that you don’t have a time limit like I do.”

“Ex _cuse_ me, but all I have is a shield that can hover and generate force fields. You can _make things_ out of _thin air._ It wouldn’t be fair if you could be Ladybug indefinitely.”

Ladybug laughed at that.

“Point taken, I guess…though I think your powers are still pretty cool.”

“Me too, but I didn’t wanna be the first one to say it.”

As Shell and Ladybug laughed and disappeared into the night, both were oblivious to the green, luminescent eyes that followed them until they were no longer in sight.

 

* * *

 

Nino cringed at the list of his most recent calls.

Alya had called him no less than six times throughout the night, and she hadn’t bothered to leave a message for any of them. That was a very, very bad sign.

“Just call her back,” Marinette encouraged him, frowning around the cup of hot chocolate in her hands as they walked down the street, enjoying their ‘job well done’ treat before going home. “You told her already that you couldn’t make it to ice cream today, right?”

“Yeah, but I think my excuse must’ve sucked,” Nino admitted, glancing over at Marinette with a pained look. “And it doesn’t help that this marks the fifth day that I haven’t seen her.”

“Is it too late to see her tonight?”

“Probably. Besides, I’m exhausted; I’d probably pass out as soon as I got to her place.”

“Hmm…” Marinette hummed, sipping at her hot chocolate. But before either she or Nino could come up with an answer to this problem, Nino’s phone began to ring again, and Alya’s name flashed across the screen, the abruptness of the call so sudden that Nino nearly dropped his hot chocolate.

“Answer it!” Marinette insisted when Nino froze up, wide eyes staring at the screen. He shook his head to rid it of the cobwebs gunking up his brain. Marinette took his hot chocolate from him, and he wondered if it was _that_ obvious that his hands were shaking.

“Oh, right, right…ahem…”

Nino hit the answer button, choosing at the last minute to put it on speaker phone as well. Marinette gave him a curious look, but he ignored it, injecting cheerfulness in his tone as he answered.

“Hey, babe!”

“Hey, Nino,” Alya replied, and Nino’s heart hurt at the sound of her tone; there was something off about it, and he shot Marinette a worried look, which she returned. “What’re you up to?”

“Oh, you know, just heading home from the studio,” he lied automatically, only to cringe once he realized he was doing it. It had been his answer to everything lately when she asked where he was going and what he was doing; the studio, it was always the studio. He might as well be dating the studio instead, at this point. “Sorry I haven’t been able to take your calls.”

“Oh.” There was a beat of silence on the other line. “Have you seen Marinette today?”

Nino glanced up at Marinette, who shook her head at him, making an X with her forearms, eyes wide. Startled at this reaction, Nino felt that he was less than convincing when he replied,

“Uh, no, not really…didn’t you see her at Francoise’s earlier?”

“No. She couldn’t make it, either.”

“Ah…babe, I’m really sorry I’ve been so busy lately,” Nino apologized sincerely, encouraged by Marinette’s nods. “I hate being away from you like this.”

“That’s okay, I understand. Work is work, right? You put up with me through deadline after deadline, so why wouldn’t I support you now?”

The playful note in Alya’s tone was encouraging, and Nino chuckled a little.

“Yeah…even so, I’m hoping things’ll slow down soon. But either way, I’m gonna start making a lot more time for you. And I have something special planned for your birthday next week, so that’s something to look forward to, yeah?”

“It’ll take my mind off aging, sure,” Alya teased. “Well, I should probably go. You’re probably exhausted after a long day at the studio, right?”

“I’m a little tired, but I can talk a bit longer, babe.”

“Nah, that’s okay. I should probably get some sleep, too; god knows I don’t get enough of it during the week.”

“All right, then sweet dreams, babe.” Nino felt himself flush due to Marinette’s presence, but whatever; he and Alya had been together too long for him to be embarrassed about expressing his affection for her in front of other people, least of all Marinette. “I love you, Alya.”

“I love you too, Nino. G’night.”

After she hung up, Nino pressed his phone over his heart, as if he could actually hug his girlfriend that way. Marinette reached out, handing back his hot chocolate before patting him on the shoulder.

“I know it’s rough,” she told him, “but this is the way it has to be.”

“I know,” Nino grumbled, staring down at his phone, where a picture of Alya was still present, smiling that sweet and sassy smile of hers Nino loved so much. “But I _hate_ this. I _hate_ having to lie to her like this.” A reckless sort of desperation seized him at the memory of Alya’s lonely tone on the phone, and he turned to Marinette, beseeching her with his eyes. “Can’t we tell her, Marinette?”

“No,” Marinette said firmly, her jaw locking stubbornly. “You know what’ll happen if she finds out, Nino. Do you want to lose her like this?”

“No…” Nino huffed, dropping his phone back into his pocket and rubbing the bridge of his nose under his glasses. He could feel a headache coming. “You’re right, I know you’re right, but _goddamn it._ This _sucks._ ” He paused, frowning down at Marinette. “Why did I have to lie about seeing you today?”

Marinette raised her eyebrows at him.

“It’s a bad idea for her to know we’re hanging out without her. Don’t you think she’d start getting suspicious if she knew how much time we spend together?”

“Why? We’re friends.”

“Nino, we’ve _literally_ never hung out without Alya before,” Marinette reminded him with a frown. “It just sounds too suspicious, okay? I know it’s awful, and I’m trying to work something out, but we _have_ to keep her in the dark, understand? She can’t know about us.”

Nino felt his shoulders slump in defeat, and Marinette patted his arm again.

“I know, Nino.” And she did, if the pain and guilt in her own gaze was any indication. “But this is the only way.”

With a deep sigh, Nino nodded as he and Marinette resumed their walk down the street.

A couple buildings back, a young woman with red hair stepped out from the alleyway she had hidden herself in after seeing her best friend and her boyfriend out and about. Without her.

Alya stared hard at their backs, clutching her phone tightly to her chest.

‘ _It’s a misunderstanding,_ ’ she told herself as she watched them walk away, chatting aimlessly. After all, this was her best friend and her boyfriend she was talking about. They wouldn’t do this to her. Not Marinette, who had learned to stand up for what she believed in so strongly that she wouldn’t even _think_ about fooling around with the guy that Alya had been in love with for eight years. Not Nino, who had been loyal and loving to her for eight long years, loyal enough that the thought of seeing her best friend behind her back would be unimaginable.

They were good people. They wouldn’t sneak around behind her back. They absolutely would not do something so heinous to her…

But then…what was she supposed to make of that conversation just now?

In the distance, Marinette laughed about something, shoving Nino playfully. He came back and stole her hat to ruffle her hair, laughing at her squeals of protest.

The tight ball that had suddenly appeared in Alya’s chest grew tighter, and her grip on her phone grew stronger.

She was being lied to.

For some reason or another, Marinette and Nino had apparently been telling her all kinds of tall tales recently.

Well…Alya was not a journalist for nothing. One way or another, she would have the truth from them, once and for all.

No matter what it took.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's either all fluff, or it's all angst.
> 
> THERE IS NO IN BETWEEN.
> 
> (Nino's ringtone for Alya is "Other Gun" by Ne-Yo, a very good song that describes their relationship perfectly, I think~)
> 
> Next chapter, more trouble on the horizon~ :D
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	19. Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Flops in with a monster chapter*
> 
> Look, it's a DJWiFi chapter!
> 
> ...A very angsty DJWiFi chapter.
> 
> Oops?
> 
> Anyway, enjoy~ <3
> 
> ~Reyna

If this was how Alya felt after having her calls continuously ignored, then Nino could safely say that a dose of his own medicine was bitter indeed.

He gave a sigh, eyes glued to his phone as he tried, once more, to get in contact with his girlfriend. He only let it ring seven times before he gave up. Nino hit the end button, staring at Alya’s profile picture. He hadn’t seen her all week: there were apparently deadlines she had to complete before the weekend was up, and though Nino knew how she was with her work, it was rare for him not to see her at _all_. He never knew before now how much he could miss her, even though she couldn’t be as far away as he felt she was. Nino could feel the gradual distance between them getting larger and larger, and it hurt him so much to know that he couldn’t say anything about it, because it had been _him_ who had been too busy for _her_ for so long that any complaints he made would turn him into a hypocrite. But even so…

Nino stiffened his upper lip, speeding his steps as _Boulangerie Patisserie_ came into view. Well, hopefully things would change after this weekend. Alya’s birthday wasn’t until Monday, but they would be celebrating tonight; the invitations had been sent out, the venue was booked, and the decorations were up. The last thing Nino had to do was pick up the cake, and Marinette was in charge of getting Alya to the place… _if_ she could drag his workaholic girlfriend away from her laptop…

“Welcome to _Boulangerie Patisserie…_ oh, hello, Nino,” Sabine greeted pleasantly, smiling at Nino as he stepped through the door. He hitched on a grin for her.

“Hey, Mrs. C. Is ‘Nette around?”

“Hold on…Marinette! Nino’s here!”

“Coming!”

From the house sprang Marinette, chewing quickly; she had been on lunch break, it appeared. Balanced carefully in her hands was a white box Nino knew Alya’s cake to be in, courtesy of Tom Dupain himself. She passed it over to Nino with all the ceremony of passing the torch at the Olympics.

“Guard this with your life,” she warned him sternly, and Nino snorted, the words familiar.

“I’ll do my best.” Growing serious, he asked, “Hey, uh, still got a minute? I want to talk to you real quick.”

Marinette gave her mother a curious look, and Sabine nodded her assent.

“Just don’t be too long,” she requested. Marinette thanked her with a quick hug, and she and Nino stepped out of the shop. Marinette shuddered in protest, scowling as she crossed her arms for warmth, and Nino chuckled.

“You could go get a coat…”

“No, I really do have to get back quickly so Mama doesn’t get swamped.” She turned curious bluebell eyes onto Nino. “What’s up?”

Nino frowned.

“Have you seen Alya this week? At all?”

Marinette bit her lip.

“Not really…I saw her for a few seconds on Wednesday, but that was just luck. She said she had a deadline to meet, but usually, she’s willing to sneak away for a bite of lunch when I ask…” Marinette frowned. “She seemed kind of stressed to me.” Turning to Nino, she asked, “Have _you_ seen her at all?”

“Not one bit,” Nino answered, his mood sinking lower at the words. “She hasn’t answered any of my calls. I’m pretty sure she’s pissed at me.”

“She _could_ just be busy…”

“Yeah, but she would’ve _told_ me if she was busy. I haven’t heard anything from her, ‘Nette. Not one word.”

Marinette’s brows furrowed, taking in the dejection in Nino’s expression.

“That’s…not like her,” she concluded.

“So you see my problem,” Nino replied, sighing. “I’m not sure what to do here: I know she’d hate it if I dropped by while she’s busy, and she’d hate it even more if she’s actually mad at me, which I’m sure she is…but the radio silence is killing me, and I don’t know how to break it.”

Marinette gave his arm a consoling pat.

“I’m sorry, Nino. I don’t know what’s going on, either, but you’ll see her at the party tonight, so you’ll get a chance to talk to her, then.”

“Is she actually coming?”

“She said she’d meet me for dinner tonight, so she should. Of course, that was yesterday…” Marinette frowned, gripping her chin in thought. “I’d better text her to make sure that’s still on.”

“You should. Can’t have a birthday party without the birthday girl,” Nino reasoned with something resembling a smile. Marinette returned it, patting his arm again.

“It’ll be okay. I’m gonna text her now. You just worry about getting that cake back to your apartment safely, okay?”

“I’ll be extra-careful to avoid any cake thieves on my way home,” Nino joked with a grin. “Though, even if the impossible did happen, I’m sure Ladybug could save the day as she always does…”

Marinette leveled a flat look his way.

“That’s one Lucky Charm I’d rather avoid, thank you,” she told him dryly, swatting at him. “Go on already. I have to get back to work.”

“Ack! Okay, I’m going! No need to swat me out of the kitchen, Ma, jeez.”

“Don’t drop that cake!”

“I’m not gonna!”

“And don’t think about sneaking a bite, either! The first taste is for the birthday girl!”

Nino snorted. As if he’d dare to take a bite out of his girlfriend’s cake before her…

As he walked, Nino tried to slide the box open for a peek…only to find that the sides were taped shut. Aw man. Well, no matter; he’d see it at Alya’s party tonight.

…Now if only he was sure she would show up…

 

* * *

 

There was a snarling sound, and finally, Alya gave up, snapping her laptop shut in favor of the black coffee beside her. She made a face after taking a sip—it was stone cold now. Maybe she had ignored it for a little too long.

She sighed, letting her head fall into a hand as she rubbed her temples, trying to ease the tension away. This wasn’t working. The whole reason she had left her apartment was because she wanted to be able to focus without the distraction of pictures of her and Nino and Marinette hanging everywhere, but it was just as difficult to focus here, in this bustling café full of people talking and laughing and generally being cheerful, the bastards. What were they all smiling about? Didn’t they know how much pressure she was under?

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Again. Alya groaned and grumbled under her breath. She really didn’t want to talk to Nino right now—she didn’t know what to say to him. All week, she had been mulling over her strategy, over how best to attack what was _definitely a misunderstanding_ between her, her best friend, and her boyfriend. All week, she nearly tore her hair out, trying to analyze the conversation she had overheard over and over again, examining it from all angles to find something that made sense, even without the proper context. All week, she had been willing herself _not to go crazy,_ because it _couldn’t_ be what she was worried it was, because she _knew_ Nino and Marinette better than that, _knew_ that they would _never_ do something like this to her. So why was it gnawing at her like this, as if eight years of love and friendship meant _nothing?_

_“I know it’s awful, and I’m trying to work something out, but we have to keep her in the dark, understand? She can’t know about us.”_

Alya snarled again and slammed her fist into the table.

“The _fuck_ does that mean?!” She demanded to know out loud, causing the patrons around her to jump and cast her wary glances. “ _What_ ‘us’?! What the hell are they lying about that involves an ‘us’?! What the hell is going on?!”

“Oh dear. Honey, are you all right?”

Alya’s head snapped up, startled at the interruption. A beautiful woman stood beside her table, dressed in a red winter coat, dark blue jeans and black calf-high boots. She brushed lush auburn hair from the lapel of her jacket, dark eyes surveying Alya with some concern. And Alya felt herself flush, recognizing the beauty instantly.

“Oh… _Madmoiselle_ Trace,” she said, nervously tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Uh, hello.”

Desiree’s eyes grew bright with interest.

“Oh, you know my name? How flattering.” She leaned over a little, her face coming closer to Alya’s, plump lips pursed as she stared, apparently oblivious to Alya’s growing embarrassment. “Hmm, you look familiar, darling…I haven’t had you in class, have I?”

“Oh, no,” Alya said with a slight smile, “I’m not a fashion student. But my best friend is, and I’ve attended a few of your fashion functions with her.” Alya paused at the automatic label she used for Marinette, wondering if said label still applied for a moment before she shook her head and continued. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She’s one of your best students.”

“Oh, Mari-doll! Yes, indeed she is!” Desiree’s gaze went to the empty seat across the table from Alya. “Will she be joining you soon?”

“Nope,” said Alya, her smile growing strained. “It’s just me today.”

“Just you? Oh, what a shame. Would you like company?”

“Uh…I guess?” Alya answered uncertainly. She glanced at her laptop briefly before she dragged it off the table with a huff, stowing it in her bag. Whatever. She clearly wasn’t going to be getting any work done anytime soon anyway.

“So how is Marinette?” Desiree asked as she made herself comfortable, sliding off her jacket to reveal a cream-colored sweater that hugged her frame nicely. She folded her hands on the table in front of her, smiling at a slightly flustered Alya. “She’s always rushing off after class to do something or other. Busy girl, isn’t she?”

“I guess so,” Alya replied, frowning a bit. Desiree seemed to pick up on her preoccupation at once.

“Oh…I’m sorry, is this a sore subject?”

Alya sighed. She knew her feelings were always obvious when she spoke to people face to face; that was part of the reason she was avoiding Nino and Marinette at the moment. She didn’t want to see them until she knew exactly how she would attack this misunderstanding between them…now if only it wasn’t so hard to figure out a course of action, with her stupid feelings of doubt constantly getting in the way…

“No,” she assured Desiree with a pained smile. “I’ve just…been dealing with some stuff, that’s all.”

“So I gathered from the way you shouted earlier,” Desiree replied, and Alya’s embarrassment grew two-fold as she groaned and slapped a hand over her face again. “Please stop me if I’m prying, but…can I make a guess and say that this problem involves a friend…and a significant other of some kind?”

Nino flashed through Alya’s mind, and her free hand balled into a fist on the table.

“Actually…I’d rather not talk about it,” she said, avoiding Desiree’s gaze. There was a beat of silence before Desiree spoke again.

“I’m sorry you seem to be going through a rough time.” There was a light touch to the back of her fist, and Alya glanced up, finding a sympathetic smile on Desiree’s face. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just thought…well, if you needed someone to talk to…” She frowned a little, uncertainty marring her features. “But I suppose it’s strange to spill secrets to a stranger, isn’t it? I’m sorry. I really am prying, aren’t I?”

Alya cringed. Oh great; she was making a virtual stranger worry about her just because she wouldn’t swallow her pride. For a journalist, her communication skills were abysmal.

“No, you’re not prying,” Alya assured her, giving an awkward smile. “I know I probably look terrible, making faces while mumbling to myself…it’s just…” Alya shuddered, as if it would cause her physical pain to voice the words out loud, but they were clawing at her throat anyway, screaming to finally be released from this prison of self-doubt and confusion she had kept them caged in for the past week—

“…I don’t know what to do.”

The words were a shameful white flag. Alya hated it.

Desiree seemed to consider her for a long moment.

“…Have you tried speaking with them?” She suggested. Alya snorted.

“That’s the problem: I don’t know _how_ to talk to them. I don’t want to explode at them, only to feel like an idiot as soon as they prove me wrong. I know I’m probably freaking out over nothing—I _have_ to be—but just as soon as I work up the nerve to call or text one of them, that stupid little voice in the back of my head pipes up, ‘What if I’m wrong’? What if what I’m afraid is happening _is_ actually happening, and I’m letting my stubbornness cloud my judgement?”

Alya huffed, propping her head up with her fist as she gazed out the window, to the chilly afternoon beyond, though the barren landscape offered nothing to lift her mood. Her phone buzzed once again in her pocket, but she ignored it still, her heart giving a painful squeeze as she wondered which one of the two most important people in her life was trying to get in contact with her. Nino had been calling her all week, and Marinette had been sending her tentative text messages, not wanting to bother her when she was on a deadline. They were clearly worried about her…and surely two people so worried about her wouldn’t be doing anything that would hurt her…right?

“Can I offer some advice?”

Alya’s gaze flicked over to Desiree, who was regarding her with a thoughtful frown. Smiling weakly, Alya shrugged.

“Sure. It can’t be any worse than me banging my head against a wall,” she grumbled. Desiree’s gaze once again grew sympathetic, and she gave Alya’s free hand another pat.

“Well, I can’t say that I know all the people involved in this scenario…” The speculative look that crossed Desiree’s features spoke volumes over what she believed she _did_ know, “…but my father always told me one thing whenever I was in doubt: trust your gut.”

Alya stared at Desiree.

“That’s it?” She asked, her tone too blunt. But she couldn’t find her manners at the moment; she was actually having a crisis here, and some fortune cookie crap wouldn't solve anything for her.

Instead of taking offense, Desiree laughed.

“I know it sounds simple. It used to aggravate me, too, when I was younger,” she teased. As Alya watched, her smile grew a tad more wistful. “But when he died, I realized just how much wisdom was actually hidden in his words. I never got to thank him for everything he passed onto me, but I’m grateful for every bit of advice now, no matter how silly it sounded in the beginning. Funny how that happens after the people we love are gone, isn’t it?”

“I’m…sorry for your loss,” Alya said, unsure of what else what to say. Desiree’s smile widened.

“Thank you. It’s been years, but I still miss him as if he just passed yesterday. Oh, but I didn’t mean to bring you down more, I’m sorry,” she apologized with a flustered wave of her hands. “Anyway, as I was saying…I’ve learned that going with my gut instinct has helped me out on more than one occasion. Of course, that’s me, personally…” Desiree paused, her gaze flicking over Alya, speculation returning to her gaze. Alya was suddenly struck with the urge to sit up straighter.

“…But I think we may be of the same mold, you and I,” Desiree teased, winking. “So, though you didn’t ask for them, here are my two cents: if you feel something is wrong, you should figure out why. Go back to the beginning, where you started feeling that things were strange, and then figure it out from there. Does that make sense?”

Alya frowned. Yeah, it made sense: in theory. But in her situation…

Dimly, a memory swam to the forefront of her mind: the first time she caught Nino and Marinette out together, after she had been calling him all day without an answer. It was Christmas Eve, and they had said they were out having lunch after Marinette had presented Nino’s new CD cover to him…but Alya hadn’t yet seen any cover, despite her asking about it; Nino seemed to always have an excuse about it, like he’d left it at the studio, or something. That had been strange all on its own…and then, right under her nose, Marinette had passed off a locked box to him, a box she insinuated had birthday surprises for Alya…

…But had that been true? Or had it just been a convenient excuse…?

Alya frowned to herself, her mind working furiously.

Despite what she did or did not want to believe, her gut told her that she was being lied to, definitely. As for the whys…well, she’d have to figure them out later, come what may. But as for a point of origin—

“Oh, Desiree,” said a sudden voice, and Alya glanced up, finding a red-headed waitress at their table, looking pleased as she smiled at Desiree. “I wasn’t expecting you to drop by.”

“I had a caffeine-and-cute-girlfriend itch that had to be scratched,” Desiree purred, and Alya felt herself warm as Desiree leaned up, tugging the waitress over to kiss her cheek. “Get me an expresso, will you, sweetie?”

“S-sure,” the waitress stuttered, her face flaming to match her hair. As she jotted down the note, she gave Alya a curious glance. “Who’s your friend?”

“Oh, just an acquaintance of an acquaintance,” Desiree said airily, waving a hand. “Can I get you some more coffee, hun?”

“Uh…no,” Alya decided, grabbing her coat and the strap of her messenger bag. “Actually…there’s something I need to do. Will you excuse me?”

“Of course, I’m the one who invited myself to _your_ table, after all,” Desiree said with a chuckle. As Alya paid for her undrunk coffee, Desiree’s hand slipped once more over hers, patting it affectionately. “I hope you find your answers, hun.”

“Thanks…that’s pretty,” Alya said, just noticing the ring Desiree wore around her middle finger: it was silver, looping around a couple times before two ends appeared to rest at the top of the ring: a curved tail, a portion of it clamped in the mouth of what appeared to be a snake’s head, two minuscule, gleaming rubies servings as its eyes. Desiree drew her hand back, regarding the ring fondly.

“Thank you. It was a gift from my father,” she explained, a small smile gracing her features. “Never leave the house without it.”

Alya smiled as she excused herself a final time, edging around the waitress and leaving the café, her bag banging into her hip as she took off running as soon as she hit the street.

“Watch it,” she growled as she narrowly avoided running into a tall blonde man in her way. He raised an eyebrow at her, but she couldn’t focus on him, too intent to reach her car as fast as she could. Nino’s place wasn’t far; it would take her a just a few minutes to get there, and once she did…

As she climbed into her car, her phone buzzed again, and finally, Alya dug it out of her pocket.

There were three text messages, each of them from Marinette.

_Marinette (3:25 PM): Hey, Alya! Sorry to bother you while you’re on deadline; just wanted to remind you about dinner tonight. You can still make it, right?_

_Marinette (3:40 PM): Uh…is that a no? A little dinner wouldn’t hurt you, right?_

_Marinette (3:55 PM): Okay, I give up: the truth is, Nino and I have been working to put together this surprise party for you tonight. I know it’s not much of a surprise if you already know, but it’s not much of a party if you don’t come, either. So say you’ll come? Please?_

Alya paused, re-reading the last text.

Oh…right, a surprise party. That made sense. It wasn’t like Alya hadn’t thought about that as a possible explanation for the odd behavior of her best friend and boyfriend lately…

_“She can’t know about us.”_

And yet…

Making up her mind on the spot, Alya sent back a reply:

**Alya (3:56 PM): Hah! I warned you surprise parties don’t work on me! Buuuut since you asked so nicely, I’ll be there. I’m in the middle of something, so I’ll talk to you later.**

Once the text was sent, Alya tossed her phone into the passenger seat and started up her car, speeding her way to Nino’s.  She didn’t know if he was home right now, but that hardly mattered; home or not, Alya was going to get her answers.

And then the party tonight would either be a celebration or a shit storm…it all depended on what she found out, honestly.

Alya made it to her boyfriend’s apartment in record time. He didn’t answer when she knocked, so she went ahead and took that to mean that he wasn’t home.

‘ _No problem,_ ’ Alya reasoned, simply drawing out the spare key she held to Nino’s apartment and letting herself in. The living room was a mess of take-out boxes and clothes…surprising. Nino was usually the neater one out of the two of them…perhaps he’d been too busy to pick up after himself lately.

Alya carefully closed the door behind her and kicked her shoes off, wary of every step she made, which was ridiculous, since she was the only one there. The only eyes on her right now were the eyes of Gaspard and Genevie, and who were they going to tell? They were fish.

“Not here…” Alya muttered to herself, a quick sweep of the living room telling her that her prize was elsewhere. However, she was far from discouraged, and merely headed for the bedroom instead. It was a little less messy in here; the take-out boxes appeared to have been confined to the living room. Alya flicked the light switch…but nothing happened. She scowled up at the ceiling, wondering if Nino knew his light had burnt out and just hadn’t bothered to fix it yet…or if this was a higher power’s not-so-subtle sign that she should cease and desist in her snooping. Either way, she refused to be deterred. A hand went to her pocket, intending to use the flashlight app on her phone—oh, but she had left her phone in the car. Damn it.

“Whatever,” Alya growled to herself, moving to the window. She meant to draw the curtains back—wait, what the hell, the edges seemed to be…fastened to the wall? How the hell did Nino do this? Did he hate having sunlight in his room _that_ much?

Well, this meant Alya was forced to improvise. Grumbling under her breath, she headed for the computer desk instead, wiggling the mouse. The screen came to life, as she knew it would, but instead of Nino’s background coming into view, a web page appeared, concerning…the cleansing of the Seine? Alya raised an eyebrow. Since when did Nino care so much about the Seine?

‘ _Not important,_ ’ she had to remind herself as she turned her back on the computer, facing the room, which was now bathed in blue light. It wasn’t ideal visual conditions…but she could work with it. Damn it, the minute she dared to leave her back-up pen light at work…

Nevertheless, Alya commenced the search, high (the top shelves of Nino’s closet) and low (under his bed), sweeping through all possible hiding areas twice before she flopped on the edge of Nino’s bed in defeat a minute later. Fuck. Where the hell was that stupid box??

Due to inactivity, the computer monitor slipped back into sleep mode, plunging the room in darkness once again. That suited Alya just fine—her humiliation was at an all-time high right now, and she wanted nothing more than to be buried in her shame.

What was she doing? Snooping around her boyfriend’s apartment, looking for evidence of backstabbing she wasn’t even really sure was occurring? What was she thinking? What did she expect, that that box she had seen a few weeks ago would contain incriminating evidence, like pictures or love letters or something? What the hell kind of nonsense had she let her emotions talk her into?

Alya sat up, loosing a cleansing sigh. This was stupid. Even if there _was_ something to find, it was clearly too well-hidden for snoops like her. Besides, what happened to trust? What happened to talking? Surely Alya wasn’t too far gone that _talking_ was no longer a viable option, right…?

That was it, she was getting out of here. She was going to get in her car, call Nino, and either wait until he got home or see him later, depending on how busy he was today. This was ridiculous after all; she was almost twenty-two, she should know better than to skulk around her boyfriend’s apartment like—

“OW!” Alya screeched; she hadn’t been as careful as she should’ve been when walking through the dark bedroom, and she walked right into the wall next to the door. Even worse, the grate for the vent popped out at the contact and fell onto her feet. Her curses became more vehement as her toes throbbed, and she knelt down, snatching the vent grate up. Why the fuck was it so loose, anyway? Vent grates shouldn’t just pop out like that. Nino’s apartment was _not_ that shitty.

Still grumbling swears under her breath, Alya felt around, wondering if there was something wedged between the opening and where the grate should fit effortlessly. When her fingers encountered something hard, she drew her hand back in surprise, blinking in the dark at the vent.

Wait a minute…

Carefully, Alya set the grate to the side. Her heart was pumping faster than it should be, but she ignored it, hands flexing in front of her as she carefully moved them forward, easing over the hard object that should _definitely not_ be sitting in the vent. Her hands smoothed over something distinctly box-shaped, and she swallowed.

‘ _Walk away,_ ’ her voice of reason warned her, sounding suspiciously familiar… ‘ _Don’t you feel terrible about all this skulduggery? Don’t you trust Nino?'_

Of course she trusted Nino…Marinette, too, for that matter. But what was Alya supposed to do when she  _knew_ they were lying to her about something more than a simple surprise party?

‘ _This is a bad idea. Just walk away, Alya._ ’

Alya’s legs tensed, preparing to obey the voice. This really _was_ silly…clearly, whatever was in this box was important, but if Alya needed to know, surely they would’ve let her in on the secret already…surely it wasn’t what she feared…

Alya took the box out of the vent. She could feel herself groaning inwardly at the invasion, but she couldn’t help herself after all. She _had_ to know, once and for all, whether or not this was something she was meant to be concerned about. She _had_ to.

Because she couldn’t see in the bedroom, Alya carefully navigated her way to the living room. She swept all of Nino’s junk on the coffee table to the side, and set the box down in front of her, folding her arms as she stared down at it.

This was a bad idea. Every fiber of her being was screaming it at her, but she remained stubborn, glaring down at the box. It was nondescript, meant to be overlooked, unnoticed. And yet, Nino had bothered to hide it in such a suspicious place. Why?

Alya crouched down, eyeing the lock that kept her from the secrets within the box. It didn’t look like a simple lock she could just pick open; she would need the key. But she hadn’t found one in her search of Nino’s room, so unless she had somehow overlooked it—

Alya blinked, startled at herself. Wait…what was she _thinking_? Wasn’t it bad enough that she had practically ransacked her boyfriend’s room? Now she was plotting over how to bust open a box that clearly wasn’t meant for her to open? What was _wrong_ with her??

Well, if she had come this far…

‘ _This is_ wrong,’ her conscience reminded her. ‘ _If you were Nino, you would_ hate _this invasion of privacy, and you know it._ ’

Alya growled and flopped down on the couch, rubbing her throbbing temples. This back and forth within her own mind was making her head ache, and it had to stop. In the end, this was what it came down to: trust. Yeah, Alya knew something was up between Marinette and Nino; she had heard the evidence for herself. But the fact of the matter was that she could only _guess_ what they were up to. She had no concrete proof that there was an affair of any kind going on here, and though some kind of proof might be housed in the box before her, was it worth violating _Nino’s_ trust to open it and prove herself right or wrong?

In the end, didn’t she trust Marinette not to do anything that would hurt her?

Didn’t she trust Nino would never break her heart like this?

Couldn’t Alya let something as simple as faith get her through this…?

It was a moment before she registered the sound of keys jingling—a moment too late. Alya jumped to her feet, shooting a panicked glance at the door before the box on the coffee table drew her attention once again. Not good—it was too late for her to return the box to its hiding place, and Nino would be stepping through that door—

The door popped open, and Nino eased his way in, one hand carefully balancing a white pastry box as he removed his keys with his other hand, smiling as he spotted Alya.

—At any moment. _Fuck._

“Babe! I knew that was your car outside!” He greeted, his whole face lighting up at the sight of her, and Alya felt her guilt surge to the surface as she offered him an awkward smile. She was hoping he’d stick that pastry box—probably her birthday cake—in the fridge before approaching her, giving her just a second to maybe hide the box under the coffee table, but no dice: he merely set the pastry box and his keys on the kitchen counter before he approached her, hugging her tightly.

“Mmm. I missed you,” Nino muttered, kissing her cheek. Alya clutched at him, feeling like she would be sick. The feel of his arms around her was both foreign and familiar—he had added muscle to those wiry limbs, recently, but it still felt so good to be held by him…even though she was certain the moment would shatter sooner than she would like…

Nino pulled back, smiling as he brushed some hair from Alya’s face.

“You should’ve called to let me know you were coming over!” He cringed, eyes darting around his living room. “I could’ve cleaned up a little before you…”

Alya closed her eyes, but it wasn’t enough to block out the way Nino’s eyes widened when they went to the coffee table. She felt his body stiffen around her, heard his breath catch. The tension in the room climbed higher, the silence grew deafening, and Alya grew colder the moment Nino’s arms slid away from her. It was a very, very, _very_ long moment before he spoke, his voice constricted, clearly wanting to remain calm.

“…Alya. What were you doing in my room…?”

Reluctantly, Alya opened her eyes. Nino was staring down at her, his expression carefully blank…save for his eyes, which stared down at her as if he was looking at a ghost. She stared back up at him, frowning. Whatever was hidden in that box, it clearly terrified him that she had found it. Why? What did he have to hide from _her_ of all people?

Alya didn’t bother answering his question; they both knew what she was doing in his room. The proof was sitting right there next to him. And she hated that look on his face, so she crossed her arms, opting to go on the offensive.

“What’s in the box, Nino?” She demanded to know, point blank.

Nino’s jaw tightened.

“Why were you snooping through my room, Alya?” He asked, golden gaze darting around her face, searching for the answer in her expression. Alya pursed her lips stubbornly.

“Why have you been lying about hanging out with Marinette lately?” She shot back at him, seeking to derail him. Nino’s eyes widened, and the ball in Alya’s chest tautened. She let her hands fall to her hips, glaring up at him. “What? Did you really think I wouldn’t figure out that something was going on? How stupid do you think I am?”

“Alya—” Nino began, and Alya waited, hoping with every fiber of her being that he had a ready explanation for his recent behavior of ducking her calls and lying to her about being with Marinette. So desperate was her wish to believe him, to have everything make sense again, that she would’ve taken any stupid excuse that was remotely plausible, anything that she could wrap her head around. She just needed _something_ , anything that would make her smile and forgive him for being so shady lately—

But Nino said nothing. After saying her name, he could only stare, guilt warping his features into something horrible, heartbreaking. And Alya felt the ball of tension in her chest implode, tearing every shred of pride and stubbornness she clung to, leaving her raw and vulnerable. She _hated_ it.

“Wow,” she drawled, working to make her voice sarcastic, swallowing against the lump rising in her throat, fighting against the tears pricking her eyes. “Well, ain’t that a bitch? To find out on the day of my surprise birthday party that my boyfriend’s been screwing around with my best friend on the side? Your timing is impeccable, sweetheart.”

“It’s not like that!” Nino protested, and so shocked was his expression at the accusation that Alya dared to house a pinprick of hope, that maybe she was misunderstanding after all. He reached for her, but she wasn’t ready to be touched by him, and she retreated, wary.

“What’s it like, then?” She demanded to know, clenching her jaw to keep her bottom lip from trembling. “What other explanation is there?”

Nino opened his mouth, only to close it again, looking conflicted. Alya watched as his hands clenched and unclenched, the way he anxiously watched her. She stared back at him, clinging to her anger. Why was he looking at her like that? If he wasn’t cheating on her, then what were he and Marinette doing, and why couldn’t they tell her about it? Why did they have to sneak around behind her back and leave her in the dark?

“Well?” She snapped when Nino took too long to reply. He winced at the bite in her tone, and finally, looked away from her.

“I can’t tell you.”

His tone was heavy, regretful. It did nothing to stem Alya’s rage at such an unsatisfactory answer.

“What the fuck do you _mean_ you can’t tell me?!” She shrieked, and Nino jumped as she rushed forward, stabbing him in the chest with her index finger. “For _weeks_ you’ve been acting all shady, not answering my calls, and _lying_ about hanging out with Marinette behind my back! What the _fuck_ am I supposed to believe here, Nino?! I’m _sick_ of the lies already! If you’re cheating on me, just fucking admit it!”

“I’m _not_ cheating on you!” Nino protested, aghast.

“Then why can’t you tell me what you and Marinette have been doing?! I saw you two together last week, don’t deny it!”

“I’m not denying it! Babe, I’m sorry I lied, really! But we just thought it’d be easier this way!”

“What the _fuck_ is easy about this situation?! I’ve been freaking out for _days_ now! I swear to god, Nino, if you don’t tell me what’s going on _right now_ —”

“I _can’t,_ Alya! I wish I could, believe me, but I’m trying to protect you!”

“From _what?!_ ”

Again, Nino’s jaw locked, as if he had to physically restrain himself from answering. Alya seethed, her chest heaving as she glared up at him. She hated this. She absolutely _hated_ this. Sure, she and Nino had had fights before—they had been together so long that fights were inevitable—but she had never, in her _life_ , doubted Nino like this. She wanted to believe in his sincerity, wanted to believe that he was not having an affair with her best friend…but then, if that wasn’t it, then what did he have to hide? _Especially_ for a reason as dubious as protecting her…?

When Nino didn’t say anything for a minute, Alya returned to her original interrogation.

“What’s in the box, Nino?” She asked him, her voice low and dangerous. Nino seemed to register her tone, but his expression did not change. In fact, he purposefully stepped in front of the coffee table, hiding the box from her view.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” he said simply. And though the wording was polite enough, Alya heard the meaning behind the words: _none of your business._

That’s it. Alya was done. This was the final goddamn straw.

If Nino didn’t want to be up front with her, then she saw no reason to stay with him.

“…Fine,” she said after an incredibly tense moment, her voice quivering with hurt and anger. “Fine, Nino. Keep me in the dark. Sneak around all you want, be my guest. Clearly, you don’t trust me enough to tell me what’s going on. And since we don’t have that trust…it’s obvious to me that we don’t have much of a relationship anymore, either.”

That did it—Nino’s expression crumpled and broke, pain filling his eyes as he gaped at her.

“Alya—” he whimpered, reaching for her again, but she smacked his hand away, storming purposefully to the door, picking up her shoes instead of putting them on, because she did not want to spend one more stifling moment in this apartment that held all the secrets Nino was working to keep from her.

“Tell Marinette to cancel the party; I’m not gonna show up,” Alya threw over her shoulder as she stepped out into the hall. “I hope you two have a nice life.”

She slammed the door behind her for good measure, tugged on her shoes as she descended the stairs, and walked to her car, a shameful part of her hoping with all her might that Nino would chase after her, explanations and apologies on his lips as he kissed her and assured her that everything was all right, that this wasn’t it for them, that she hadn’t just had to end an eight year relationship over this—

He didn’t. There were no explanations, no kisses, no apologies. It was just Alya, standing in the wreckage of what she had done, and there were nothing but tears as she climbed into her car, shuddering breaths rattling through her as she tried to get herself together. Stupidly, her mind scrambled for answers on its own, trying to formulate theories that would make the pain go away: he swore that he wasn’t cheating, but the fact still remained that he and Marinette were in _something,_ and there was a box with mysterious contents that he wouldn’t divulge to her. Why? What were he and Marinette involved in that it was safer for Alya to be lied to? Was it something dangerous? Something illegal? What was _going on??_

Alya didn’t know how long she sat there, crying, her frustration reaching its ultimate peak. The only judgment of time was the sky as the blue gave way to oranges and pinks, a winter sunset on the horizon. Alya was staring blankly at the sun, tears drying on her face, hating the golden hue of the sky, when abruptly, a familiar cacophony of sound intruded upon her awareness: screams, the sound of many people running at once, and maniacal sounding laughter.

Alya whipped around, spying a small crowd of people fleeing from something down the street. The terror in their expressions could only mean one thing: _akuma attack._

Alya’s heart leapt.

Oh, _thank god._ A story _and_ a welcome distraction.

Hurriedly wiping her face dry, Alya started her car and sped towards the source of the trouble. Once she turned at the corner, however, Alya had to stomp on her breaks to avoid the guy standing in the middle of the street—

Alya blinked, staring through her windshield.

Scratch that, it wasn’t some guy just standing gormlessly in the middle of the road. It was a _statue_ of a guy standing in the middle of the road. Mid-run. The facial features frozen in horror. And he wasn’t the only one.

Slowly, Alya climbed out of her car, gaping at the scene before her: there were statues of people _everywhere_ on this street. There was a couple frozen mid-kiss over there…that little girl was in the middle of her ice cream cone…the further Alya looked, the more casual the expressions appeared, which told her that this particular akuma had snuck up on a few people before the panic began to set in. Briefly ducking back into her car, Alya grabbed her phone, switching on her camera to record the scene.

“Hey Ladyspotters,” Alya said out loud, addressing the fans of her blog, immediately shifting into reporter mode, “this is Alya, reporting from the scene of the most recent akuma attack! No sign of the akuma yet, but as you can see, the victims have been turned _to stone._ Could this akuma be a Medusa-type theme? If so, be sure to keep mirrors handy, Ladyspotters! More on this situation as it breaks, but until then, luck of the Ladybug be with—ACK!”

Well, that wasn’t as smooth a send-off as Alya was used to. It wasn’t her fault, though: _anyone_ would yelp in surprise if someone in costume landed in front of them without warning. Alya retreated a hasty step back, staring at the new figure. At first, she didn’t realize it was an akuma, for his costume was so simple: a mere artist’s smock worn over a robe that suggested he was from the Renaissance rather than the twenty-first century. He was a young man rather than an old patron of the arts, however, and the only tip-off that told Alya he was dangerous were the glowing items in his hands: a hammer and a spike-like object.

Alya gulped as he suddenly smiled at her.

“Oh my, what a lovely piece,” he complimented, one of his cold hands stroking down the side of her face. She jerked away, holding her camera up higher, as if that would defend her. “I almost want to change nothing about you…ah, but you haven’t achieved _true_ perfection yet. Don’t worry,” he purred, raising his tools, “I can fix that…”

Uh-oh. If she didn’t think fast—

“Wait!” She cautioned, holding a hand up to halt him, the other keeping her phone steady. “Uh…you’re on camera, you know! I’m filming this for my blog, so, uh, can you tell my followers a little about who you are and what your goals are?”

The akuma glanced down at her phone, looking mildly surprised.

“Oh…well…I suppose I can’t turn down an interview from such a beautiful creature…” Clearing his throat, the akuma smiled, the gesture surprisingly charming. “I am known as Chisel. It is my wish to free humanity of its imperfections, to bring out their true beauty in the form of sculpture. It’s a harrowing task, to be sure…but I’m rather enjoying it…”

“So you’re a sculptor?” Alya questioned, taking what she hoped appeared to be a casual step back as she worked to give her camera a better angle. “You seem very passionate about it…do you, by chance, sculpt for a living? Have I seen your work in any art galleries around here?”

A shadow passed over Chisel’s face, and Alya realized too late that she had said the wrong thing.

“No. You will find that no one actually appreciates fine art the way I do. But that will change when I open a gallery of my own and fill it with my beautiful sculptures. And you, my dear…you will be my Aphrodite.”

Alya cursed to herself as Chisel advanced, raising his tools. She scrambled back as fast as she could, only to find her route of escape blocked by the front of her car. She had stupidly boxed herself in, and now, she was about to join this scorned akuma’s collection of underappreciated art—

Just as she squeezed her eyes shut, a clang resounded through the air of metal hitting metal, and she forced her eyes open again, green on green upon green suddenly filling her vision.

“Hey, back off, pal, she’s spoken for,” snarled the man in green in front of her, and Alya blinked wide eyes at his back. She never liked that phrase to describe a relationship: it was archaic, suggesting that it was up to the man in the relationship to speak for his woman. Fuck that.

And who was this guy to speak about her relationship status anyway? He didn’t know her. Or was this just hero/villain banter?

As Alya lost herself to her musings, she nearly missed the snarl that slipped from Chisel as he jumped back, clutching his tools as he bared his teeth at the man in green.

“Pah. I’ve no interest in such a garish design. You will have no part of my collection.”

“I’m heartbroken,” sassed the green hero. “But I wouldn’t count on you continuing your collection anytime soon…”

Before the threat was even fully registered, from out of nowhere swung Ladybug, landing lightly in front of her teammate and taking an immediate defensive stance.

Chisel cursed, but before Ladybug could come up with a witty line, he turned and fled, causing her to sigh.

“Must they always run?” She complained, turning an aggrieved eye onto her teammate, who gave a weary chuckle in response.

“It’s no fun if it isn’t difficult,” he joked. “Shall we?”

Alya noticed when Ladybug’s eyes flickered briefly to her.

“Actually, I think I can handle this,” she reasoned, causing the man in green to pause. She jerked her head at Alya, a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Can you make sure she gets home safe for me?”

Alya noted the way the green hero’s back stiffened.

“LB—” he began, sounding…annoyed? Was he unhappy with being on civilian babysitting duty?

His reservations didn’t seem to register with Ladybug, however.

“Make sure you’re careful—that’s my number one fan over there.” With a wink to Alya, who was torn between incredulity and delight, Ladybug sent out her yo-yo and swung away, apparently determined to deal with the akuma on her own. It was a moment before the green hero in front of Alya moved; he broke his statue-like stillness to sigh, shrugging his shield back onto his back. Alya stared at the shield, at the gold hexagon in the middle…the shield that had kept her from becoming a statue.

“Damn it, Dots,” muttered the owner of the shield, bringing Alya’s attention to him once again. She frowned, a little offended that he was taking his task of seeing her home safe so hard. What was his problem? Wasn’t it a hero’s duty to want to protect his citizens? Or was he upset about the action he would apparently be missing?

“It’s Emerald Shell, isn’t it?” Alya asked in lieu of a greeting, pulling the hero’s name from her memory of the press conference Ladybug had held to introduce him not long after he first appeared. At the sound of his name, Emerald Shell turned to face her.

This was the first time Alya had seen him so close; any other time she arrived on the scene of an akuma attack when he was out and about, he’d kept a careful distance from her, answering any questions she threw at him with cheeky deflections that had annoyed and begrudgingly amused her. Seeing him up close now was like a punch to the gut, though Alya didn’t immediately register why, too focused on the details of his costume to take him in as a whole.

It was his eyes, she decided after a moment, that made her ache: they were too familiar, too similar to the eyes of another, someone she loved, someone who hurt her…

After a quiet moment, a slight smile crossed the green hero’s face. The sorrow in it struck Alya, and before she knew it, a hand was reaching out to automatically pat his shoulder, to squeeze his arm and reassure him that things were all right. She dropped her hand and shook the irrational reaction away, in time to hear him speak.

“Shell’s fine,” he replied, reaching up to adjust his hood. “You’re the reporter for the Ladyblog. …It’s Alya, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Alya replied, stunned that the new hero bothered to learn her name. Maybe he had asked Ladybug about her, since she was always showing up when she could to film them battling akuma…naturally, he’d be curious about the nosy girl always filming them, as if her hands were glued to her phone…

Dimly, Alya wondered what this new hero thought of the akumatized victims. He wouldn’t pull a Chat Noir and leave Ladybug in the lurch too, would he?

As Alya studied him, she noticed immediately when he seemed to grow embarrassed under her scrutiny; he broke gazes with her, turning from her as he rubbed the back of his hooded head.

“Ahem. So…where’s home?”

Alya snorted.

“You don’t actually have to escort me home. I’m not helpless,” she assured him. Dimly, she realized she was still recording, and hastened to shut her camera off before she dropped her phone in her coat pocket. When she looked back up, it was to find Shell eyeing her from his peripheral vision. The look on his face…Alya couldn’t decode it. And so she frowned at him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Shell said, hurriedly pulling his gaze from her. “And I know I don’t have to…but LB asked me to. I think she’d get annoyed with me if I just let you go home and that akuma targeted you again before she could de-akumatize him.”

Alya frowned. She thought it highly unlikely that the akuma would target her again…she just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time…but then again…

“He _did_ refer to me as his Aphrodite,” she reasoned out loud, snorting a little.

Shell turned to watch her from the corner of his eye again, his goggles magnifying those warm, golden eyes of his.

“Then that settles it: consider me your bodyguard until that poor artistic bastard is de-akumatized,” Shell said, turning to face her fully, crossing his arms. “You don’t know that guy, do you?”

Alya raised an eyebrow. She was getting the strangest feeling from this conversation…but no, that was stupid. Shell had no reason to be jealous over someone he didn’t even know…

“Never seen him before in my life,” she replied, her eyebrow climbing higher when Shell visibly relaxed. “Why?”

“Oh. Uh, just checking. Y’know, to make sure that he doesn’t, uh, know where you live, so he won’t, uh, target you at your apartment or anything. Assuming you live in an apartment,” he hurriedly added, and Alya gave him a strange look. He was so jumpy…

“I do…” she confirmed cautiously, folding her arms herself. “But I don’t think it’ll be a good idea to go there.”

This seemed to puzzle Shell.

“Why not?”

Alya gave him an amused look.

“Because, hero or not, I think it’s a bad idea for a strange man to know where I live,” she told him with a slight laugh. “Besides, my boyfriend—”

Alya paused as the automatic phrase slipped out. Ex. Ex-boyfriend. It was a slip, honestly—she had _just_ broken up with Nino, so naturally, she hadn’t gotten used to calling him her ex-boyfriend. But there was no question about it: they were broken up. Alya just couldn’t deal with the bullshit anymore. It was better this way. She’d be happier this way, in the end. Sure, it would take some time, but if it meant no more of this stress, the fear, the wondering…

As logical as Alya tended to be, her emotions did not subscribe to said logic. Before she knew it, she was tearing up again, and it was twice as humiliating, now that she had an audience. Annoyed, she lifted her glasses to brush her tears away with the sleeve of her coat, hating herself for showing such weakness in front of a stranger. She hated crying in general, but to do it in front of someone she didn’t even know was even more shameful.

To make matters worse, she could feel the gaze of Emerald Shell focused on her. She cursed him in her mind, humiliated that he was watching her. What kind of hero was he? Surely this behavior wasn’t allowed in the world of heroes, was it?

Alya’s knees were trembling. She wanted to sink through a hole in the ground, to let the earth swallow her up and bury her along with her misery. She was so, so, so, _so_ sick and tired of this.

Before she could buckle under the weight of her grief, a pair of firm hands went to her shoulders. Alya didn’t even have the strength to protest them, and they didn’t linger for long; as soon as she was seated on the hood of the car, the hands left her, as did the momentary comfort they offered. She drew her legs up, folding her crossed arms over her knees, seeking the lost warmth from her own body, though she knew she didn’t possess it. There was the sound of metal giving way to pressure, and the warmth of another body next to her. If she had been in a better mood, Alya would’ve protested this seating arrangement—they were denting the hood of her car, no doubt—but since she couldn’t even stop the tears from falling, she didn’t have much strength to fuss about anything else. As she sniffled and hiccuped, Shell merely sat silent beside her. Alya wished he would say something, anything, to distract her. She didn’t care if it was stupid or nonsensical, just as long as she could focus on anything other than how utterly wretched she felt at the moment—

“Y’know,” Shell suddenly spoke, his deep voice cutting through the sounds of Alya’s misery, “it’s kind of eerie here.”

Alya gave a sniff, peeking out from her arms to give him a curious look. He wasn’t looking at her; he was staring out at the statues, a frown on his face.

“It’s too quiet,” he continued to complain, his eyes darting from statue to statue. “This feels like it’s straight out of a horror apocalypse movie. I never liked dolls or mannequins...but statues are just as bad, aren't they? I mean, I know they're actually real people...but still...”

Alya let out a tiny hiccup that nearly masked a small laugh.

“You’re scared?” She asked, rubbing at her face as a small smile began to curve her lips. “Aren’t you supposed to be a superhero?”

Shell gave a snort.

“Being a superhero doesn’t mean you stop being afraid of things,” he said with a shake of his head. “If anything, being a superhero means you gain a lot of _other_ things to be afraid of.”

He was fiddling with something on his left wrist, Alya couldn’t help but notice. She glanced down, spying a jade bracelet hooked around his wrist.

…Hmm. That was strange…why did she get the feeling she’d seen that bracelet somewhere before...?

He must have caught her staring, for he casually moved his right hand to cover his left wrist, blocking the bracelet from view. Alya glanced up to his face, meeting his eyes for a brief moment before he shifted his gaze away. It was quiet for an awkward moment.

“Like what?” Alya asked, deciding to continue their conversation. As long as she was under guard, it was a better way to pass the time, rather than her crying about her broken heart.

Shell’s gaze flickered back to her, the shadow of a wry smile on his face.

“Like being afraid of being under attack by the _stupidest_ things. Like, I didn’t think cute, fluffy bunnies were anything to fear, but after dealing with the akuma called Lapin? I hate the demonic fuzzy creatures now. Won’t go near ‘em.”

Alya giggled. She remembered that akuma…it had been interesting, Paris being under attack by ravenous rabbits that inexplicably rained from the sky. Of all the strange akuma attacks Paris had had to suffer through, that one was definitely up there.

“And there are bigger fears, too,” Shell continued, seemingly encouraged by Alya’s laughter. He was slower to articulate these bigger fears, she noticed. “Like…the fear of constantly being under attack, whether you’re in or out of the costume. Or the fear that you’ll fail when all of Paris is depending on you. Or the fear of disappointing a teammate that’s counting on you. The fear of your secret identity being discovered…of not living up to expectations…”

His grip on his wrist was very tight. Alya didn’t like it.

She reached over, hesitating for only a moment before she rested a hand across his. The move had startled him apparently; he straightened, wide eyes going to her hand, and then to her face. To try and put him at ease, Alya smiled.

“You know, I daydreamed about being a superhero when I was younger,” she told him, lowering her voice to illustrate that he was being told this in confidence. “But the way you tell it…I think being a civilian might be a better choice for me after all.”

Shell snorted softly.

“I don’t mean to bitch. I’m honored that I was Chosen, really. Knowing that I’m doing my part to keep my loved ones safe eases the burden a little. Besides…there are worse things,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to her hand again. Alya wondered if he wanted her to remove it…but he had made no move to shake her off…

“Worse things like what?” She asked, curious. Slowly, Shell’s gaze returned to her face, meeting her gaze head on. Alya’s breath caught. The look on his face, like he was a man who had lost everything he had ever loved in a day, was _unbearable._ Such an agonized face snatched at the strings of her shattered heart, the violence of her empathy shaking her. She could only stare at him, struggling with this unreasonable response to such raw emotion, when he answered her question:

“…Like losing someone you love,” he muttered quietly. His eyes, practically glowing in the light of the setting sun, were very intent upon hers as he added, “But to lose them because you want to protect them…or to lose them because you were careless and exposed them to your enemy…I can’t decide which is worse.”

Alya’s mouth was curiously dry. She had to take a moment to swallow, trying to rid the feel of sandpaper from her throat.

“It’s…the second one, isn’t it…?” She questioned, voice hushed as well. Suddenly, she was very aware of the feel of his hand under hers, the weight of his stare doing very, very odd things to her…

Amidst the pain, somehow, Shell found the strength to smile.

And Alya positively _ached_ at the sight, because, coupled with the heartbreak that was still present in his gaze, it was the most tragic look she had seen on him yet.

“I guess so,” he agreed with a small, humorless laugh. “If she’s safe…that’s all that matters, right?”

Alya had no words. This was striking too close to home, and she didn’t know what to do. She floundered, scrambling for words that would have meaning, that would ease the burden of this stranger who was beginning to feel not-so-strange—

There was a sudden tinkling tune, and a large vibration, shaking Shell’s whole frame, his shield rattling against the hood of Alya’s car. She jerked away in surprise, blinking as Shell shrugged off his shield, allowing it to rest across his lap.

“Is your shell—shield—is it _ringing_?” She asked, gawking at it. Shell laughed at her expression.

“Yeah. Scared the hell outta me the first time, too,” he assured her, grinning as he pressed the gold hexagon in the center of his shield. It flashed, and suddenly, the shield split open, a section of the curved top popping open to reveal what looked like a computer screen, accompanied with keys embedded in the bottom half of the shield, tethered together by an industrial looking hinge inside that connected the two halves. The screen was lighting up, the words “INCOMING CALL: LADYBUG” flashing across it in large letters. Alya watched, fascinated, as Shell hit a key, and the screen shifted, showing Ladybug’s face.

“Yo, LB,” Shell greeted casually, apparently oblivious to Alya’s gawking. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah—the akuma’s been purified, and I just got the victim home,” Ladybug reported, sounding breathless, but pleased. “I’m about to use my restoring powers, but I wanted to check in and make sure everything’s ok—oh, for _god’s sake._ ”

Alya watched as Shell tensed.

“What’s wrong?”

“There are protesters headed this way,” she growled, and Alya watched as Ladybug pinched the bridge of her nose in aggravation. Huh. Funny, Marinette had the same habit when she was frustrated with something. “I guess Chisel didn’t get to a few of them.”

“Damn shame—I like them better when they’re quiet,” Shell remarked dryly, and Ladybug smirked and rolled her eyes sympathetically. “Where are you? I’ll help quell the rebellion.”

“That’d be appreciated, I really would rather not…wait…what are they hold—oh my god! STOP!!”

“LB, what—?!”

The question was answered in the most forceful of ways—even from kilometers away, Alya would have to be deaf, dumb and blind to be oblivious to the explosion that occurred to her left in the distance. Shell’s connection to Ladybug was abruptly cut off, and he slammed his shield computer shut, swearing vehemently.

“Bastards! What the _fuck did they do?!_ ” He snarled, jumping to his feet. When Alya slid off the hood of her car as well, his eyes went to her immediately. “It’s dangerous. Go home.”

Alya stared at him.

“What? But this is a major scoop! The situation has escalated—this is now a hate crime! If I get this footage—”

“It is _not your job_ to document this,” Shell barked at her, and Alya’s mouth opened in offense, but he seemed not to care as he brushed past her. “Go home where it’s safe.”

“Don’t you underestimate me! Hey!” She called, grabbing his arm when he made to leave. “I can take care of myself, all right? I don’t need anyone telling me what to do, _especially_ some dude in green paja—”

Shell turned to her, and Alya’s rant was cut short when he pressed a thumb to her lips. The gesture was simple, gentle, and yet, it still had the power to strike Alya dumb; she could only stare as Shell brushed hair from her face, his expression taut, gaze anxious. He was _worried_.

“Babe, _please,_ ” he begged, his voice hushed as he leaned over her, the force of his eyes overwhelming as he entreated her, “It’s _dangerous._ Please, go _home_.”

Alya stared at him.

‘Babe’.

He called her ‘babe’.

Shell didn’t seem to register that anything was amiss; as soon as Alya stopped fighting him, he shook off her grip, hopped onto his hover board and sped away, towards the sounds of chaos in the distance. And Alya could only watch him go, her feet rooted to the spot as she watched the turtle man fly away. A hesitant, questioning hand raised to her face, her fingertips brushing her cheek, where it was still warm from Shell’s touch.

Slowly, her logical mind whirred to life, armed with the final piece of the puzzle at last:

Nino had gotten very, very busy around the same time Emerald Shell showed up on the crime-fighting scene.

He had started wearing a bracelet…a bracelet that looked an awful lot like Shell’s, now that she was thinking about it.

And the way both men spoke to her…

_“I’m trying to protect you!”_

_“But to lose them because you want to protect them…or to lose them because you were careless and exposed them to your enemy…I can’t decide which is worse.”_

_“Babe! I knew that was your car outside!”_

_“Babe, please. It’s dangerous. Please, go home.”_

The force of her realization was staggering. Suddenly, the two men in her mind’s eye melded together until they became one, and Alya had her answer.

Nino hadn’t been having an affair. He wasn’t hiding things from her because he wanted to. He did it because he had no choice.

Because Emerald Shell would not let his girlfriend walk around with a target on her back.

Ex. Ex-girlfriend.

The lump was back, constricting Alya’s windpipe. It was cold outside now that the sun had set, but she was even colder on the inside, as the weight of what she had done settled onto her, this new information coloring the afternoon in an entirely new light.

All this time…all this time, Nino had been struggling to keep her in the dark, to keep her safe…and she had thrown it back in his face.

‘ _Well how was I supposed to know?_ ’ The stubborn side of her argued, watching smoke furl through the sky, the distant sounds of sirens reaching her ears, yet completely ignored. ‘ _Anyone in my shoes would’ve assumed the worse…how the hell was I to know that he was a fucking superhero this whole time?_ ’

Ah, but that was the catch: while she couldn’t have known if Nino didn’t tell her, how was he supposed to without putting her life in danger? And since he couldn’t tell her, how was he supposed to appease her without lying? And since he _had_ to lie, when Alya found out…how was this situation supposed to end well, exactly? Wouldn’t it have been inevitable that they would reach this point when Alya finally got fed up with being lied to? Didn’t Nino think of that?

The echo of Shell’s pained laugh sounded through her mind.

_“I guess so. If she’s safe…that’s all that matters, right?”_

Alya closed her eyes, but the tears still came, even when she was convinced that she was all cried out.

Nino must’ve known that the worst case scenario—this afternoon—would happen eventually. He knew that Alya wasn’t stupid, but perhaps he hoped that she would remain oblivious…an unrealistic hope, really. He should’ve known that she would start asking questions eventually…and to his credit, he hadn’t tried to lie to her again when she outright demanded answers. He hadn’t given her what she wanted, but he hadn’t lied again, at least…

And when she had stormed out…he had let her go. It wasn’t ideal, this situation. It couldn’t have been what he wanted.

But when it came down to the choice between keeping Alya happy and keeping her safe…

“Idiot,” Alya bit out, laughing in between her sobs. “Stupid, sweet idiot…”

God, she loved him. Of course she still loved him—this revelation changed nothing. Hell, even the break-up meant nothing. Alya only broke up with him because she was mad at him, after all. She never once, not for a second, stopped loving him, even when her heart was breaking over the secrets and lies he was keeping and telling. But now everything was just a mess, and she didn’t know how to fix it. She didn’t know…what could she do?

Alya rubbed her eyes again, certain that they must be red and puffy by now. Shivering as darkness pressed in, she got into her car, cranking up the heater for warmth. From out of her pocket she withdrew her phone, searching through the recording to the point where Shell showed up to save her ass, laughing at his stupid, archaic line, at his hesitance when Ladybug ordered him to take care of her. Suddenly, everything made sense, and Alya wanted to berate herself for failing to see it earlier. With that one, simple slip of the tongue, all the pieces fell into place…

…Well, almost all the pieces.

Which brought Alya to her next question: how did _Marinette_ fit into all this?

It still couldn’t be denied that she and Nino had been up to something this whole time; Nino himself had even confirmed it. But what was Marinette’s part in this whole mess? Did she know about Nino before Alya did? Had she perhaps figured it out on her own, and had Nino sworn her to secrecy?

Alya frowned down at her phone, where it was paused at the point where Ladybug winked at her.

Marinette had said ‘us’, that Alya couldn’t know about her and Nino. That her and Nino…what? If it wasn’t an affair…then what did she _and_ Nino, together, have to hide from her? As far as Alya knew, there wasn’t anything Marinette had to keep from her…

Ladybug grinned up at Alya from her phone, a secret glimmering in her eyes. She had purposefully left Shell— _Nino_ —alone with Alya. She knew what they were to each other…which meant she knew who Shell was. And if she knew who Shell was…

_“Can’t we tell her, Marinette?”_

_“She can’t know about us.”_

There was no logical way Marinette fit into this mess.

But…if Alya dared to dream it…there might be an explanation more miraculous than she ever thought possible.

 

* * *

 

Shell’s heart had vacated his rib cage, choosing to dance a violent conga with his Adam’s apple. He swallowed against the feeling, mentally pushing his hover board to go faster. Ladybug’s radio silence was unnerving. He didn’t know what had happened to her, had no idea whether she was all right or not. All Shell could do was cling to the faith that she was all right, and resolve to help her as soon as he arrived—

It was bedlam. Before him, a house was going up in flames, and everywhere he looked, there had to be at least thirty flailing bodies, someone fighting someone—multiple people fighting some _one,_ more often than not—grappling and punching and swearing and kicking and yelling and wrestling, like Shell had stumbled into a wrestling arena or a fighting game. A flash of red was zipping around in the thick of the fighting crowd, and Shell zoomed in, his relief enormous once he spotted Ladybug, completely fine. Well, she was furious and incapacitating people, but she was fine. Switching his hover board back into his shield, Shell dropped down into the action, blocking a punch thrown at Ladybug’s back from what he could only assume was a protester. As the man howled and withdrew his abused hand, Ladybug whirled around.

“Shell!” She greeted in relief, ducking another blow and tripping the offender up with a sweep of her leg. “Thank god!”

“What the hell happened?!” Shell questioned, throwing a frantic look at the building on fire next to them.

“Molotov cocktails,” Ladybug growled, unable to spare the energy to explain further, as they were still in the thick of a fight. It didn’t stop Shell from pausing to gape incredulously at her, a move that costed him when someone kicked at the back of his knees. He went down, but he held his shield up, successfully blocking further attack until he got to his feet.

“You’re _shitting_ me.”

“I’m not,” Ladybug replied as she threw one of the bigger protesters over her shoulder, flinging him into his fellows. “And I need to get in there because the akumatized victim from today is _still in there,_ but _these assholes won’t get out of the way!!_ ”

The strain in Ladybug’s voice was real, and Shell sincerely felt her pain. He risked a quick glance around, noting that the civilians that were fighting the protesters seemed to be dwindling, simply because the protesters outnumbered them. Good—Shell needed as many of them out of the way as possible.

“Think you can get everyone rounded up in one spot?” He muttered to Ladybug as she used her yo-yo to wind another protester by hitting him in the gut with it. When Ladybug glanced over at him, he subtly tapped his shield. Her eyes widened in understanding.

“Oh, right! Yeah, I can definitely do it…but I’ll need a minute to weed out the innocent ones…”

“You got it,” Shell said, nudging her for emphasis. He glanced her biting her lip as he threw a punch into an upcoming protester.

“And leave you to fend for yourself?”

“I’ll be fine for a minute. _Go._ ”

Ladybug hesitated a moment longer…and then yo-yoed her way out of the crowd. A few chased her, but the mob mentality seemed to switch immediately to Shell as soon as she cleared their line of sight. Shell clenched his teeth, hunkering down with his shield. He’d probably catch a few hits before Ladybug could do her thing, but _c’est la vie._ As she would say, he wasn’t a superhero for nothing.

It was rough: he wasn’t as agile as Ladybug, so for every blow he managed to block, he caught two more. He tried to remain on the defense as much as possible; though these people were idiots, though they had potentially _killed_ someone, Shell tried to keep in mind that they were still people, and that his actions had consequences. So, when he had to kick or punch, he aimed for places that weren’t vital: abdomens and the backs of knees, winding his attackers and tripping them up. One caught him in the face, and Shell cursed as his lip split open. Unimportant; he’d deal with it later. He spat out the blood filling his mouth and rammed his shield into the chest of an oncoming protester, causing him to stumble into his buddies like a row of bowling ball pins.

The burden became easier as Ladybug’s yo-yo worked its magic, tying around peoples' ankles and tangling their legs and arms as she dipped in and out of the crowd, entangling them as best as she could before she gave an almighty tug—Shell had to admire her strength in this moment—and they all stumbled, shrieking and cursing and falling to the pavement. By some miracle, Ladybug managed to recall her yo-yo from the mess, hooking it back to her side like she did this sort of thing every day.

“Now, Shell!”

Shell didn’t need telling twice: he tossed his shield into the air and activated his force field, which slammed down around the mob before any of them knew what happened.

Personally, Shell felt this feat was deserving of a high five…but now was not the time, and so he did not begrudge Ladybug her focus when she made a bee line straight for the flaming house, her eyes so focused that she missed the woman just behind her, a lit bottle in her hands, hate and fire in her gaze.

Shell paused for one heart-stopping moment—and then he dove.

“LOOK OUT!!”

Too late—the bottle left the woman’s grip. Ladybug turned just a moment too late, just in time to see it coming—

And then, suddenly, she was gone.

Shell, after he tackled the volatile woman to the ground, cringed as another explosion occurred when the cocktail hit the house, glass and wood splintering and exploding over them. Cursing and coughing, Shell squinted through the smoke, searching for Ladybug, his heart barging its way into his throat once again.

“LB?! Ladybug!! Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine!” Ladybug coughed, and Shell felt his insides unclench. “I’m—!”

The smoke began to dissipate, and Shell squinted in the direction of Ladybug’s voice, wondering what she saw that caused her to abruptly stop talking.

There she was—the red gave her away—but there was something hulking over her. Shell stared, barely able to hold the struggling woman that was trying to wriggle out from under his knee. Was that—?

“HELP! SOMEONE, PLEASE, HELP ME! I CAN’T GET OUT!!”

Shell cursed, beginning to get up—there wasn’t much else this woman could do, provided she didn’t have more explosives hidden somewhere—but the shadow that hovered over Ladybug was already hopping up, racing into the building.

“No!” Ladybug cried, but before she could scramble after him, Shell caught her shoulder and held fast. She whipped around, yanking against his grip.

“Let go!” She cried, “I have to help! I have to—!”

The fire blazed, and before either of them could realize what was happening, the roof caved in.

“NO!” Ladybug cried, but Shell yanked her back, his eyes on the blaze. There was no way either of them could go in there now, the structure was too unstable. If they went in, it would only be made worse. Shell knew that, and he hated it: heroes were meant to disregard the safety of their own lives when it came to saving someone in need. But Paris needed Ladybug, and it would do no good to let her rush in when someone else had already jumped to the rescue…but whether or not he pulled it off…

Time seemed to freeze as they watched the house collapse in on itself. Ladybug was still fighting with everything she had to rush in, and Shell had to struggle to keep her out of danger, despite his conflicting emotions about the issue, just waiting, searching—

Somewhere nearby, there was the sound of glass shattering, and both he and Ladybug whirled towards the noise. Two figures struggled out of the window on the side of the house, one leaning heavily against the other. Once they reached the street, the civilian seemed to pass out; his legs buckled underneath him, and Chat Noir stooped, lowering the victim to the pavement. As he leaned over, inspecting the victim, his eyes abruptly opened. He got a good look at Chat Noir…and screamed.

“Don’t hurt me!” He cried, throwing up charred arms to protect himself. “Please, don’t hurt me! I didn’t do it on purpose, I swear! I’m innocent! Please!”

He coughed a hearty amount; inhaled too much smoke to breathe correctly, it looked like. Nevertheless, his words seemed to have a profound effect on Chat Noir: he reeled back, away from the victim, turning away, his hands clenched into fists.

Ladybug slipped from Shell’s grip, taking a step towards Chat Noir.

“Chat,” she called softly, and Shell was startled to hear the crack in her voice. He was further startled when Chat immediately turned towards the sound of her voice, cat’s eyes glowing in the dark as he spotted her. Something—Shell had no idea what—passed between them. It was wordless, but at the same time, it _roared_ , deafening him. He could only stare as they stared at one another, suddenly encapsulated in their own little world where only the two of them existed, like it had only been the two of them since the dawn of time. Such a connection between them…Shell could sense it, but for the life of him, he couldn’t fathom it.

Almost in sync, they took a step towards each other, as if gravitating towards one another was the most natural thing in the world.

And that was when Shell snapped out of it.

Oh _hell_ no.

Barging forward, he firmly planted himself in front of Ladybug, an arm raised to protect her…and prevent her from passing him. The moment between her and Chat splintered and broke, and Chat’s gaze switched to Shell instead, who glared at him without reservation. What? Did he think he could just come back after weeks of being gone—after _months_ of working _against_ Ladybug—and everything would go back to normal?

Uh-uh, nope, no way. Ladybug might be willing to forgive and forget, but Shell sure as hell wasn’t. And he was about to remind her of every reason she should still be angry as well.

“What’re you doing here?” He demanded, not bothering to tone down the aggression in his voice. “You haven’t been seen for weeks, and now you dare to show your face? What the hell’s your angle?”

“Shell!” Ladybug hissed at him, but Shell ignored her.

“I’m not gonna praise you for saving his life,” Shell growled, gesturing at the victim, “‘cause if it weren’t for _you,_ his life never would’ve been in danger in the first place.” He jabbed a finger at the angry mob, still trapped within his force field. “This was done by _your_ followers, the people _you_ taught to hate akumatized victims. _They_ did this because of _you._ ”

And now Shell pointed the finger at Chat, righteous anger flooding him over how the cat bastard _dared_ to show his face now, of _all_ times.

“If he had died…that blood would’ve been on _your_ hands. This was a _hate crime_ , and it’s _all_ your fault! What the fuck kind of hero are you?!”

“Shell!” Ladybug cried, and she threw a punch to his arm, causing him to wince. But though his arm now throbbed, the damage of his words was already done: the look on Chat Noir’s face suggested that he did indeed realize the extent of the damage of this situation. Maybe he was even a little sorry about it…but Shell didn’t allow himself to see that, taking vindictive pleasure only in the guilt that flooded Chat Noir’s features as he seemed to take on the weight of his sins. Without a word, he extended his staff, and then vaulted away into the night.

“Chat!” Ladybug cried after him, rushing forward, but Shell once again caught her arm, preventing her from going anywhere. She whirled on the spot, wrenching her arm from his grasp and glaring at him with such _heat_ that Shell almost expected to catch on fire himself.

“What the _fuck_ did you do that for?!” She raged, stomping her foot. “He helped us!!”

“I don’t trust him,” Shell said simply, unperturbed by Ladybug’s rage…or working to appear so, anyway. “He’s bad news, LB, and you know it.”

“You don’t know him like I know him!” Ladybug protested hotly. “He’s been sorry about this whole thing for weeks now! I’ve been waiting for him to show up, so I could talk to him, and now you’ve chased him off again! Now we might not see him ever again!”

“So what?” Shell replied, staring at Ladybug as she gaped at him in outrage. “We’re better off without him! Didn’t you listen to a thing I said? It’s _his_ fault all this happened in the first place!”

“He’s sorry!”

“Oh yeah? Did you hear an apology come out of his mouth?”

Ladybug faltered for a moment, but rallied almost immediately.

“You didn’t exactly give him a chance to say anything!” She pointed out, crossing her arms as she glared at Shell. “He was finally going to speak to me, and _you_ got in the way!”

“What’s _with_ you?” Shell wanted to know, utterly confused by this attitude. After all, it should have been _Ladybug_ who reminded Chat Noir of his responsibility for this whole mess, not him. Why was she fighting so hard to defend him? She was acting like…like…

“You’re acting like you’re in _love_ with him or something.”

It was a stupid observation, and Shell cringed, about to apologize, because that was below the belt…but the words got stuck in his throat when Ladybug promptly turned red.

…Oh _shit._

“ _Are_ you in love with Chat Noir?!” Shell questioned, his wide eyes searching Ladybug’s face. She turned steadily redder, her glare intensifying.

“I am _not_ in love with Chat Noir,” she growled through gritted teeth, her tone defensive…very defensive.

Beneath his mask, Shell’s eyebrows rose.

“Are you _sure_?” He questioned, folding his arms as he inspected her, “‘cause you could’ve fooled me, Dots.”

Ladybug’s eyes flashed dangerously, and Shell was quite certain that he was about to get a yo-yo to the face…but a distraction in the form of police officers, reporters, and ambulances arrived. Thus, the damage control began.

The previously akumatized victim was going to be all right, the EMTs told him. His burns were bad, and he needed oxygen, but he would live, and that’s what counted. Shell breathed a little easier; despite what he’d told Chat Noir, he was grateful the guy had been saved.

A helpful civilian had pinned the woman from earlier when Shell had rushed to Ladybug’s side, something Shell was grateful for; he high-fived the heroic woman as they watched the Molotov-flinger be shut away into the back of a police car, along with dozens of her buddies, all incarcerated for their crime of terrorism.

Grim reporters asked for their takes on the situation, and Shell wasted no time in making clear that this had happened because the victim had been akumatized.

“This is going to be broadcast all over the world,” Shell said to the reporter interviewing him. “Everyone will know that this sort of thing is happening because Parisian citizens are turning against each other. It’s a poor image to have of our fair city, and I sincerely hope that we’ll all work to be better in the future.” He looked straight into the camera then. “I’m looking at _you,_ Chat Noir supporters. This kind of behavior is unacceptable, and if you’re thinking about pursuing this any further—well, I’ll make sure there’s plenty of jail cells to go around. You’ve been warned.”

After speaking to the police and restoring the damage from the akuma attack earlier, it was time to go—Ladybug’s Miraculous was down to one flashing dot, and so they waved a farewell to the cops, reporters and loving citizens as they sped away into the night.

Across the city, Nino and Marinette dipped into a café, each ordering pastries and coffee to go. As they waited, Nino examined his fat lip in the window. Shit—that was going to be annoying to deal with, and a pain to explain. Too bad Ladybug’s restorative powers only worked on things akumas ruined.

Their food and coffee was ready to go a minute later, and they left, striding down the street in silence as they each recharged, lost in their own thoughts as they discreetly fed their kwami.

After about five minutes, Nino glanced over at Marinette.

“I’m sorry about accusing you of being in love with Chat Noir,” he apologized.

Marinette glanced at him, and he could tell she was waiting for more. This made him frown.

“I’m not sorry for what I said to him,” he stated point blank, sighing as Marinette’s brow furrowed in discontent. “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. You _know_ that, ‘Nette.”

Marinette looked away from him.

“It wasn’t your place to say that stuff to him.”

“Why? ‘Cause I’m new?”

“Because you don’t _know_ him.”

“Well you sure as hell weren’t saying anything to him.”

“I was going to.”

The uncertain note in Marinette’s voice was very telling. Nino said nothing, and after a moment she sighed, pausing on the sidewalk and bringing him to a halt with a hand on his shoulder.

“Look…I get you were just trying to protect me. And I appreciate that,” she assured him, giving his shoulder a squeeze, “but, on the off-chance that he shows up again, just…please, let me handle it, okay?”

Nino frowned. He didn’t like it, the thought of Ladybug handling Chat Noir on her own; despite what she said, her judgement was clouded when it came to that cat, though Nino had no earthly idea why, when he knew for a fact that she and Adrien were supposed to be something…even if they hadn’t bothered to define it to their friends…

Marinette sighed when Nino didn’t say anything for a moment.

“You don’t have to trust him, Nino. Just trust _me._ Can you do that?”

…Well, when she put it _that_ way…

“I don’t get it…but you got it,” he agreed, and Marinette rewarded him with a smile. Returning the gesture, Nino checked his watch. Nearly seven o’ clock. He sighed.

“We’re gonna have to cancel that party.”

Now Marinette’s features crumpled in concern.

“You really think she’s not gonna show up?”

“The door slamming wasn’t exactly subtle,” Nino said dryly, the sarcasm implemented only to disguise his broken heart. God, seeing her so soon after she had dumped his ass had been trying. “And I don’t exactly appreciate the fact that you left me alone with her after the fact.”

Marinette cringed in apology.

“I’m sorry. I thought giving you two some time together would help.”

“How?” Nino huffed, shoving his free hand in his pocket. “She doesn’t know who I am.”

“Yeah, but maybe you could’ve advised her as Shell, maybe nudged her towards a reconciliation.”

Nino frowned down at Marinette.

“That’s manipulative,” he told her, and Marinette’s face flushed red.

“Well…yeah, I guess it is,” she admitted with a sigh. “Sorry.”

It was quiet for a moment as they resumed their walk, Nino dwelling on his brief meeting with Alya as Shell. It had only taken the mention of him for her to start crying, showing Nino just how much he had hurt her with his lies and deceit. He had never hated himself more than in that moment, for making her cry, and for being unable to do anything to help her.

His one small comfort in this mess was that she was safe; she had to be, since he hadn’t seen her around after he’d ordered her to go home. It appeared she’d taken Shell a little more seriously than Nino—

“Nino.”

The urgency in Marinette’s voice was not comforting. When Nino glanced over at her, she pointed into the night sky. Nino searched where she pointed, at first seeing nothing. He didn’t get it…was she trying to show him the stars?

Just as he was about to ask what he was supposed to be looking at, abruptly, he saw it: the light from a nearby streetlamp briefly illuminated the dark wings of an akuma, flapping rapidly through the air, clearly intent on possessing its next victim.

Nino and Marinette looked at each other for a split second.

And then they took off running, coffee cups tossed to the side as they hastily excused themselves around confused civilians in their pursuit of the akuma.

A hero’s work was truly never done, it seemed.

 

* * *

 

Alya was a coward.

Here she sat, out in the cold, staring at her phone, Nino’s contact information highlighted on the screen. He was literally one press of a button away—she suspected there was a good chance he was free now, because she’d been following the news all evening—and yet she still couldn’t bring herself to call him. Why?

‘ _Well, what am I supposed to say to him? ‘Hey Nino, sorry I broke up with you earlier because you’ve been keeping things from me, but now that I know you’re Emerald Shell, everything’s cool, wanna get back together’?'_

Alya snorted to herself. Yeah, _that_ conversation would go over well.

Nino’s secret identity was clearly important to him; if he was keeping secrets from _her_ , then it had to be because he felt it was necessary. And he said it himself: he wanted her to be safe. Naturally, this meant that she couldn't appear to know too much about his superhero activities, or it would put the both of them in terrible danger. Of course, his slip earlier kind of threw that out the window, but even so…

And more importantly, after the way she’d stormed out earlier…would he even _want_ to get back together with her? She could tell she had hurt him so very deeply—it was obvious in the way Shell spoke about her, though she hadn’t known he was talking about her at the time, the cheeky bastard. Could this be solved with a simple apology? Wouldn’t it seem strange if Alya, the queen of holding grudges and pulling receipts, turned around and forgave him, just like that?

Alya groaned, clutching her phone in between her hands, her forehead resting against the top. She hated this. She absolutely hated this. She wished she could go back in time, slap some sense into herself, and prevent this whole thing from happening. She wished she could stop the world for a moment, so she could find the answer she was so desperately searching for. She wished…she wished…

“Alya!”

Alya’s head snapped up, blinking in surprise. She thought she heard a strange whizzing sound behind her, but that didn’t matter; Nino was at the corner, staring at her, breathing as if he had just run all over Paris trying to find her. Alya jumped to her feet, staring at him, and seeing traces of Emerald Shell in his face. She opened her mouth, but could find no words to articulate what she was feeling, how glad she was to see him, that he seemed to have popped out of nowhere just to find her—

Words were unnecessary; Nino rushed forward all the same, and the strength of his hug positively _melted_ Alya. She let out a sigh, clinging to him tightly, determined not to let him go anywhere without her, not anymore.

“I saw what happened on the Ladyblog,” Nino prefaced as he pulled back. She blinked at the lie. Odd…if he was bothering to fib now…did that mean that he didn’t realize he had slipped earlier? Did he really believe she was honestly still in the dark about what he had been up to?

Despite the lies he told, the earnest look of Nino’s eyes could never deceive her. He didn’t know that she knew. He still thought his secret was safe, that his story was viable.

Alya had to hold back a snort. The Ladyblog. Yeah, sure, right. As if he bothered to watch her videos before now.

Well, if he wasn’t going to say anything…

“Are you ok—”

Alya didn’t let him finish. She yanked him down by the collar of his coat and kissed him, letting the fierce joy she felt at seeing him burn through her and into him. Nino stiffened in surprise, but was only too happy to reciprocate a minute later, his arms locking securely around her as he picked her up, her feet momentarily leaving the sidewalk as he kissed her. Wow, he _had_ gotten stronger…

When they finally broke for air, Alya let her eyelids flutter open, and she snickered at the dazed look Nino wore.

“Uh…wow,” was all he said as he put her down, and Alya giggled. That was _her_ line. Oh well.

“Nino,” she began, stroking his cheek, “I’m _so_ sorry. I never should’ve—”

“No, babe, _I’m_ sorry,” Nino cut her off, though he clung to her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. “I know I haven’t been up front with you lately—”

“That didn’t give me the right to yell—”

“I’d be pissed too, if it were me—”

“And to accuse you of fooling around with _Marinette_ —”

“And I know I haven’t been there for you lately—”

“I’m so sorry, baby, please—”

“I promise to be better, babe, please—”

“Take me back?” They asked at the same time, after babbling over each others’ apologies. They took a moment to blink at each other in incomprehension, and then burst out laughing. A separate giggle from theirs startled Alya, mostly because it came from above them. She looked up, to the building next to them…

And _Ladybug_ was inexplicably standing there.

“Sorry,” she apologized, grinning as Alya gaped up at her. “Maybe I should come back another time?”

“No, no, now’s good,” Nino assured her, and Ladybug obligingly hopped down from the rooftop, returning her yo-yo to her hip once she was finished with it. “Babe, you’ve met Ladybug, right?”

He was being so cheeky right now, Alya noted, quirking a brow at his innocent-looking smile before turning to face Ladybug and her equally as innocent face.

“Of course,” Ladybug replied, smiling warmly at Alya. “Nice to see you again. I’m glad to see you’re safe. And, as I understand it, someone has a birthday coming up?”

“I spent the evening tracking her down after the mess with the Chat Noir supporters happened,” Nino said, and Alya smirked to herself. Yeah, uh-huh, sure. “Thought it’d be a nice surprise for your birthday…and it’s part of my apology for being such a dick, lately.”

Alya turned to smile at him.

“Good call,” she praised, and Nino beamed.

“Yep. Normally, it’d be impossible for me to meet all my fans for their birthdays and things like that…but I figured, for my number one fan, why not?” Ladybug said airily with a lighthearted shrug. “Oh yeah, that reminds me…”

She extended her free hand, where something folded rested. After an encouraging nod from Ladybug, Alya took it, unfolding it.

It was a Ladybug poster, one she’d never seen before: it must’ve been a new printing. And while that was impressive itself, the thing that drew her attention was the scrawling in the corner, in cramped, messy handwriting that read, “To my #1 fan Alya: Happy 22nd Birthday!”

The signature was a circle with a cross going through it, and five dots strategically placed within it. Ladybug’s pattern.

And, if Alya squinted…she could just make out the familiar curves of the y’s in handwriting she had known for years. Marinette’s handwriting. She had tried to disguise it, clearly, but it was still just discernible, because Alya knew what to look for.

Grinning from ear to ear, Alya pressed the poster to her heart, beaming at Ladybug.

“Thank you,” she gushed, and Ladybug returned her smile ten-fold.

“So, do you have any plans tonight? I can’t hang out for long, but I have a little time to spare for the all-mighty mod of the Ladyblog.”

“Actually,” Alya said, glancing over at Nino. “We have a party to get to.”

“Oh, that sounds fun!” Ladybug enthused as Nino sighed in relief.

“Yeah. You should come! You could meet my best friend Marinette,” Alya proposed, inwardly snorting at the way Ladybug’s smile seemed to freeze in place. “She’s a really great friend: apparently, she and my boyfriend have been busy planning this surprise party for me for a while.”

“I would _love_ to meet her,” said Ladybug, giggling in a manner that was just a tad nervous, “but like I said, I don’t have a lot of time tonight…in fact, I should probably get going right now, things to do…but have fun at your party! Happy birthday!”

Alya snickered to herself as Ladybug took off, disappearing over the very rooftop she had appeared on and vanishing into the night, leaving only a streak of red behind. Call her crazy, but she had a very funny feeling she’d be seeing her later…

Nino’s touch brought her back to the moment, and she smiled as he brushed her hair out of her face, the movement tender as always.

“You called me your boyfriend,” he pointed out, smiling a gentle smile that warmed his whole face. Alya stared at it, committing what she never fully appreciated until now to memory. She never wanted to see Nino make the painful expressions she had seen earlier ever again…especially not because of something she had done.

“I did, didn’t I?” She said, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I guess old habits die hard.”

Nino chuckled, leaning down to kiss her, pressing his cheek to hers, simply for the pleasure of it.

“Does that mean you forgive me?”

“Only if you’ll forgive me, too.” Alya replied. Nino laughed again, the sound warm, just like him.

“Already forgiven, babe,” he assured her, turning to grin at her. Alya smiled and kissed him again.

“Then what are we still doing standing around here? Let’s go.”

Arm in arm, they headed down the street, relishing each other’s company. It had been a long time, and their relationship had nearly been torched to the ground in the span of a couple weeks…but from the ashes arose a new understanding and appreciation of each other, and Alya was grateful. She wasn’t thrilled that there would now have to be secrets kept between her and Nino—because if he wasn’t going to tell her who he was, she wasn’t about to push the issue—but despite that, her faith in him would not be shaken, never again.

“By the way…what happened to your lip?”

“Oh, ah…I tripped.”

Silence.

“Remind me to get you some ice for it when we get to the party,” Alya said, and Nino let himself breathe again. He didn’t know what had occurred in their time apart to renew her trust in him—maybe time was all she really needed—but he was grateful. And the Ladybug thing seemed to have won him brownie points, so he was grateful. Thank god Marinette had allowed him to take the credit instead of her...and thank god she managed to catch the akuma flitting towards Alya just before it made contact. He owed her big for this.

As Alya snuggled closer to him, Nino smiled, looking around as he appreciated the beauty of the night. It was therefore very jarring when he suddenly spotted a familiar figure perched on a rooftop across the street.

Chat Noir crouched there, his gaze on the distance, head turned in the direction that Ladybug had fled. Nino was tempted to stop and stare, but he didn’t want to bring the cat bastard to Alya’s attention, and so he kept walking, keeping a careful eye on the former hero.

For a second, Chat did nothing. He just stared in that direction, and Nino wondered just how long he had been there, watching Ladybug. The thought made his skin crawl…until he saw the way Chat raised a hand, as if to reach for something…only to lower it a second later, clenching it into a fist. His cat ears flattened across his head, and misery crossed his features, his head bowing.

Nino stared.

No fuckin’ way…was that _remorse_ he saw?

Chat seemed to heave a sigh, and then he stood up, standing tall against the night…save for the slump of his shoulders. As he turned to go, he caught Nino staring at him. His eyes widened by a margin, and as Nino watched, he raised a clawed finger to his lips, as if to shush him.

Nino raised an eyebrow, and Chat smiled a little before he leapt off the roof, out of sight.

What was that about? Was he afraid Nino was going to tell Ladybug he saw him or something…?

“Nino? What’re you staring at?”

“Nothing; thought I saw something, but it’s gone now,” Nino said, inwardly cringing at the half-truth. Ridiculous; he shouldn’t have to lie about Chat Noir…but strangely, it seemed indecent to mention him, as if he had caught the cat bastard in mourning, an accidental audience to pain he was not meant to see.

Huh. Maybe Ladybug had a point about how sorry Chat was…

Didn’t mean Nino had to trust him, though. Not yet.

 

* * *

 

While Alya did enjoy her party after the crazy day she had, it was honestly a relief to go back to Nino’s apartment and have a bunch of hot make-up sex to end the night. And Nino had been more than up to the challenge, even pulling out a few new moves that made Alya’s toes positively _curl._ If this was also part of his apology, then she certainly was not complaining.

It was as they were laying there, in a sleepy post-sex haze, the soft glow from Nino’s computer illuminating the room as music played softly in the background, that Alya rolled over, resting against Nino’s chest.

“Nino?”

“Mm?” Nino mumbled, his eyes closed, a hand trailing up Alya’s bare back to play with her hair. Alya shivered in delight at the contact.

“You and Marinette…” The hand in her hair stiffened, and Alya rubbed his shoulders, just to let him know that everything was fine. “You’re not up to anything illegal, right?”

The question made Nino snort, which was Alya’s intention, and he cracked an eye open to peer at her.

“No, babe. I can assure you ‘Nette and I are up not up to anything illegal.” He moved his free hand to her face, tucking her hair back behind her ear, his expression growing serious. “I’m sorry, babe. You don’t know how much. I really wish I could—”

Alya pressed her thumb to his lips, halting his speech with a smile.

“I trust you, baby,” she assured him. Nino smiled against her thumb, taking her hand and kissing her palm.

“Thank you, Alya.” He threaded his fingers through hers, tilting it so that the ring on her fourth finger glinted in his computer’s glow. “Mm. I still like the look of that ring on your finger.”

Alya rolled her eyes.

“I still can’t believe you had me find it by asking me to get a condom. You’ve been spending too much time with Adrien.”

Nino grimaced.

“Actually…I kind of forgot about it, after everything that happened today…I only remembered it was in there when you screamed.”

“…Are you serious?”

“Well, I was planning to propose on your _actual_ birthday, just you, me, ‘Nette and Adrien at dinner somewhere…but I learned a long time ago that things never actually go to plan with us.”

Alya laughed at that.

“From the moment we were locked in that cage by Ladybug, I knew our relationship would be strange.”

Nino chuckled.

“True…hm. Maybe we should invite Ladybug to the wedding. She _is_ the reason we had a chance to get together.”

“Yeah, after Adrien’s plan to get you with Marinette fell through,” snorted Alya, shaking her head. “What even _was_ our life in Dupont?”

“Awkward adolescence,” Nino replied wisely, leaning in to kiss Alya’s cheek. “But I wouldn’t change a minute of it.”

Alya grinned.

“Neither would I.”

As they settled in to sleep, Alya stared at her engagement ring, unable to stop smiling. Well well…from being in a relationship, to breaking up, to being in a relationship again, to being engaged, all in a day…her life certainly _was_ interesting. And that was excluding all the superhero shenanigans occurring right under her nose.

Nino’s light snores filled the room before long, and Alya closed her eyes, soothed by the peace of the moment.

Despite Nino’s proposal not going to plan…Alya was happy, having this moment with just the two of them, their engagement private, their own secret from the world.

Well, at least until Alya next saw Marinette. As the catalyst for her and Nino’s relationship, Marinette deserved to be the first person to know. It was only fair.

But until then, Alya would relish this secret of her own for a little while longer, before she went back to guarding secrets much more significant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Nods*
> 
> I know you're all here for the Adrienette, but DJWiFi love makes me smile, so you get a monster chapter centered around them~
> 
> Also, PFFT, Alya knows all, but she ain't sayin' a word. The wise eagle hides her talons. XD
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	20. Balance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Just realized there should be a warning here, sorry.
> 
> This chapter contains a suicide mention. There's no graphic detail or anything like that, but I figure I should let you guys know what you're walking into. Sorry for just now remembering to put a warning!
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy!
> 
> ~Reyna

“ _Ohmygod!_ ” Marinette shrieked the minute she saw the ring. She could practically feel Francoise’s laser gaze burning into her back, but she didn’t care—her best friend was engaged! Wasting no time, Marinette practically flung herself across the table to hug her best friend, who laughed and patted her back.

“I’m so happy for you oh my god congratulations!” She squealed.

“Ha ha, thanks, girl. But, uh, you might wanna lean back. You’re about to fall into my sherbet.”

Marinette squawked and drew back, glancing down at her sweater to check the damage. There was a pink and orange stain on the front, and Marinette sighed. So much for thinking it was a good idea to wear white today…

“Well that’s embarrassing,” she grumbled bitterly, taking the napkin Alya offered her to dab at the stain.

“Why? It’s just me,” Alya pointed out. As Marinette looked up, she caught the sneaky smirk cross her best friend’s face. “It’s not like a certain lover boy’s here…but even if he was, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind the thought of ice cream all over you—”

“Alya!” Marinette yelped, scandalized. Alya snickered, her smirk evolving into a mischievous grin.

“What? Tell me I’m wrong,” she challenged. Marinette felt her face heat up, and she glanced away, her hand crumpling the stained napkin she now held.

“We’re not like that,” she mumbled, avoiding Alya’s curious gaze at all costs. After a moment, Alya huffed.

“What’re you like, then?”

Marinette didn’t answer. There wasn’t a ready response for her to give, really. Even _she_ wasn’t sure what to label her relationship with Adrien, despite their talk two weeks ago…

 

* * *

 

Marinette parked on the side of the road, hopping out of her car a little faster than was probably necessary. But she couldn’t help it; she felt _awful_ that Adrien was sick, and she wanted to get medicine to him as quickly as possible. And to think, he had looked so healthy and cheerful when he left her apartment early that morning…

‘ _Don’t think about that,_ ’ Marinette ordered herself stubbornly, but it was too late for her to stop the hot flush that spread through her face and down her neck. Sighing to herself, she reached back into her car for the pharmacy bag she had picked up, shutting the door and locking it a moment later. In her side mirror, she fluffed her hair and straightened her muffler, adjusting the black cat pin that clung to it so that it hung exactly right. Her freckled cheeks were still rosy, but Marinette was more than willing to blame that on the cold. With a deep breath, she straightened up, and headed up the path to Adrien’s house, ducking through the gate when she reached it.

Nino sat on the porch stairs, and he glanced up from his phone when he heard Marinette approaching.

“Ah, there you are,” he greeted, straightening with a grin. “You got the drugs?”

“Right here,” Marinette answered, lifting the pharmacy bag. Nino nodded his approval.

“Good, good. Well, I gotta go, so I’ll leave our poor sick friend in your care, Nurse ‘Nette.”

As he passed, he patted Marinette’s shoulder, leaning over to mutter in her ear.

“Oh, and he’s really sick…so keep the kissing to the minimum, all right?”

Marinette’s mouth came open with a pop, and Nino chuckled, winking at her as he left. Marinette stared after him in mild horror, resolving to glue her best friend’s mouth shut as soon as she had a free moment.

Shaking off her embarrassment, she sighed and straightened her shoulders, marching into Adrien’s house for the second time.

Nothing much about it had changed, save for one little detail: there was a miniature Christmas tree in the living room, carefully decorated, as if to bring a bit of cheer into the otherwise lonely house. The sight made Marinette’s heart ache. Thank goodness her mother had the foresight to encourage her to invite Adrien to their house; Marinette could weep from the thought of poor Adrien spending Christmas alone with that minuscule representation of Christmas cheer.

Marinette shook her head and moved on, heading up the stairs to Adrien’s room. Outside his door, she paused, and took a deep breath. Okay…she could handle this. She was a grown woman. So what if she and Adrien made out last night, and then kissed again this morning? Marinette could put that aside and focus on what was important: Adrien’s health. She would _not_ make this weird. She would not, she would not…

One more breath…in…out…

At her knock, a throaty voice granted her entrance. Marinette winced. Jeez, he sounded awful…a huge contrast from earlier this morning…

Marinette opened the door, poking her head in.

Adrien was in his bed, the covers pulled up to his waist. One hand rested against his forehead, pushing hair out of his flushed face, his eyes closed. Once Marinette shut the door behind her, one of his eyes slid open to peek at her, a small smile crossing his lips.

“Long time no see,” he greeted her, and she giggled a little before concern took over, speeding her to his bedside.

“How do you feel?”

“Like hell,” Adrien answered around a sneeze, staring up at her as Marinette moved his hand to the side to check his temperature herself. She winced at the heat radiating from him, and plunged her hand into the pharmacy bag around her wrist.

“Good thing I picked these up,” she said, a spark of triumph flashing through her as she pulled out the cold compresses she had bought on a whim. “Nino wasn’t exactly detailed when he told me you were sick and needed medicine, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to be prepared.”

As she unwrapped one of the compresses and applied it to Adrien’s forehead, he shivered and sighed.

“You sure your calling isn’t nursing, Mari?” He teased in that croaky voice of his, and Marinette rolled her eyes.

“Buying cold compresses on the off chance that you had a fever does not a nurse make,” she replied, gesturing for him to lean up a little so she could place another one on the back of his neck. Adrien pushed himself up onto his elbows, and she slipped the compress into place, too focused on her task to properly register the close proximity. Adrien merely stared at her, his face inscrutable for a moment.

“Cute cat pin,” he said after a moment, smiling at the same time Marinette blushed. “Where’d you get it?”

“Some dork gave it to me,” she teased, smiling at him. Once she realized how unnecessarily close she was to him, however, her smile dropped, and more blood rushed to her face. “Uh, you can lay back down now,” she mumbled, swiftly turning from him to rifle through the pharmacy bag. She waited, listening to the sheets shift as Adrien settled back down, coughing a little, and then took a deep breath and sternly reminded herself to get a grip. She would have none of this bashful bullshit, damn it. She was here to make sure Adrien made a full recovery. It was the _least_ she could do, after he had bothered to grocery shop for her, filling her fridge and cabinets with a couple months’ worth of food, like they were married or something—

‘ _Do. Not. Go. There,_ ’ Marinette ordered herself once again, aggravated at the blush that filled her face. Maybe she should apply one of those cold compresses to her own forehead, just to keep her grounded to reality…

“Have you eaten anything yet?” She asked Adrien to distract herself as she fiddled with the medicine box she’d picked up.

“Nino brought me soup, but I haven’t had any yet.”

“Hmm…” Marinette inspected the medicine box. “Says here you shouldn’t take this on an empty stomach, since it’ll make you really drowsy…” She glanced over at Adrien with a critical gaze. “But I think it should be fine. You could probably use the sleep.”

Adrien gave her a slight smile, a hint of mischief glimmering in his eyes, which were overly bright, probably from the fever.

“I suppose. I don’t think I’ll be as comfortable as I was last night, though…”

Marinette flushed and rolled her eyes at his teasing.

“Get your own electric blanket,” she shot back, opening the medicine bottle and being very careful not to spill the cherry liquid as she measured out the proper amount in the cup that came with it. “Here. You’re supposed to take some of this every four hours.”

Adrien pushed himself onto his elbows again, muffling a sneeze before he took the cup from Marinette, his hot fingers brushing hers. Marinette forced herself not to react to the contact, and instead watched as Adrien lifted the cup to his lips, took a sip…and made a disgusted face a moment later.

“Ugh,” he groaned, moving the cup away from him as he eyed it in distaste. “That’s revolting.”

Marinette snickered.

“Never taken cold medicine before, huh?”

“Not really,” grumbled Adrien, his nose scrunching at the cup he still held at a distance. “I wasn’t allowed to get sick, among other things, since it’d interfere with my modeling schedule.”

Marinette blinked at such an absurd sentence, beginning to frown.

“What do you mean, you weren’t ‘allowed’ to get sick?”

At this, Adrien lifted and dropped a shoulder, covering his mouth as he coughed, his gaze shifting away towards his windows.

“Father disallowed any activity that might result in me falling ill, and my diet was always strict. I had to be kept healthy at all costs, or I couldn’t work.”

“But what if you came in contact with people who were sick?”

Adrien’s gaze switched to Marinette, the light behind his eyes dimming.

“Anyone I had to work with was not allowed to be ill. If they were, they were replaced. As for outside of work…well, I wasn’t joking when I told you that, before Dupont, I didn’t really have any friends.”

“…Oh,” Marinette replied, unable to say anything else. Inside, however, she was boiling.

While she hadn’t known Gabriel Agreste at all, the more she heard about him after death, the more foolish she felt for once idolizing him. If this was how he treated his own son, why had it been so surprising to her when she found out he had been Hawk Moth?

The injustices burned, but there was no one to rage at; Gabriel Agreste was dead and gone, no longer around to cage his son to the point of neglect. Adrien was free of him…well, in the physical sense, in any case. Mentally, however—

“Do I really have to drink this?”

Adrien’s complaint cut through Marinette’s inner annoyance at his father, and she raised an eyebrow at the pout Adrien was currently giving her.

“You do if you want to get better,” she told him simply, feeling that her chiding was justified when he sneezed again. Adrien groaned under his breath, staring down at the liquid, as if it would disappear if he just stared at it long enough. Marinette bit her lip to keep from smirking. “Oh come on, just do it. It’s not _that_ bad.”

“I don’t see _you_ drinking it,” Adrien mumbled, casting Marinette a pained look. She returned it with a half-amused, half-exasperated look.

“You really _are_ twelve, aren’t you?” She remarked with a shake of her head. “Look, Adrien, just drink it. Don’t make me force medicine down your throat.”

Adrien’s jaw locked stubbornly, the way it did the night before, when Marinette was ordering him to take her bed instead of sleeping on the couch.

“What if I’d rather just sleep it off?”

“Really, Adrien?”

“What? It’ll be slower, sure, but it’d be better than drinking _this._ ”

“Have you always been this stubborn?” Marinette wanted to know. Adrien’s eyebrows raised as high as they could without the compress getting in the way.

“You’re calling _me_ stubborn? Remind me, who was the one who dragged me home yesterday while refusing to take no for an answer?”

“You were wandering outside _in the rain_ for most of the day, which is why you’re sick now,” Marinette chided him. “And I didn’t hear you say, even once, that you didn’t want to come home with me. Now stop avoiding the issue and take the damn medicine.”

“Or you’ll what?” Adrien challenged her, flashing a grin that was way too cheeky to be allowed. Marinette frowned at him, silently calculating the situation in her head. Okay…he was being difficult about the medicine for no reason other than he was just being bratty. At the moment, she wasn’t sure if it was just him or his cold making him act like this, but it didn’t much matter; she had to get him to take the medicine somehow, whether he wanted to or not…

Dimly, an idea came to her, forming rapidly in her mind. It embarrassed her, and she flushed, wondering how on earth it had even come to her in the first place (though she was ready to blame Alya for it in a heartbeat). But as embarrassing and diabolical as it was…she had to admit that it was probably foolproof.

Making a show of annoyance, Marinette took the cup back from Adrien.

“Fiiine,” she huffed, giving his shoulder a light shove. “Then lay down and go to sleep. But just know that you’re bringing this on yourself.”

Adrien blinked at her, nonplussed.

“…That’s it?” He asked as Marinette set the cup to the side. “You’re giving up, just like that?”

Marinette bristled at the words “giving up”, and she let the annoyance show on her face once she turned back to him.

“Blame my mother; she raised me to believe that you have to be nice to sick people,” she grumbled, getting up to tug his blanket higher over him. “So I’m letting it go. For now.”

Adrien watched her curiously as she tucked him in, but after a moment, he smiled.

“I should thank Sabine the next time I see her, then,” he joked, and Marinette rolled her eyes.

“Just go to sleep,” she ordered him, hands on her hips. When Adrien obediently closed his eyes and relaxed, Marinette took a step closer to the nightstand. “Do you want anything else before I go? Maybe more than just soup to eat?”

“It’s fine.” As Marinette watched him, Adrien’s face flushed a deeper red. “Just…if you could…I’d like it if you’d stay until I fell asleep.”

Marinette smiled.

“I can do that,” she allowed, sitting on the edge of his bed and brushing sweaty hair from his face. Adrien sighed, leaning into her touch. He looked so at peace that Marinette almost felt bad for what she was planning…almost.

Carefully, she leaned forward, taking the medicine cup Adrien had rejected, emptying the contents into her own mouth. As Adrien said, the taste wasn’t great, but she could manage. She was very careful not to swallow, fighting against the instinct as she leaned over Adrien, firmly pressing her lips to his. He twitched under her, surprised, but as Marinette’s mouth worked against his, he relaxed, melting, opening his mouth to sigh when Marinette’s teeth prodded at his lower lip.

And Marinette seized the opportunity.

Because her eyes were open, she was able to witness Adrien’s flying open as he registered the taste of medicine flowing from her mouth into his. He jolted, but was unable to go anywhere; she had tucked him in too tightly. Marinette held his head firmly in place, moving her hand to his mouth to replace her lips once she had gotten most of the medicine into his. Without the option to spit, Adrien was forced to swallow, and he did so with the bitterest look on his face Marinette had ever seen. She finally let go of him after a minute, and he struggled to sit up, coughing and sputtering. The betrayed look he gave her as he rubbed a trickle of the medicine from his chin made Marinette feel guilty and want to laugh all at once.

“You should’ve known that I wouldn’t give in that easily,” she teased him with a wink, sticking out her tongue. “Next time, it’ll be easier if you just take the—mmph!”

Adrien cut her off by mashing his lips to hers, arms slipping around her waist to pull her closer. Marinette was startled by this kiss; it was feverish and hungry, his tongue darting around inside her mouth, as if he wanted to taste every inch of her. Marinette shivered, reluctantly pushing him back with a hand to his jaw.

“What’re you doing?” She teased him, breathless. “I thought you hated the taste of that medicine.”

Adrien panted, his eyes half-lidded as he gazed down at her, the cold of the compress on his forehead chilling her as he leaned his head against hers.

“I’m giving you my germs,” he reported, a wicked gleam entering his eyes. “That way, when you get sick, I’ll get to force-feed _you_ terrible tasting medicine.”

“Ohhh, so there’s an ulterior motive here,” Marinette acknowledged, letting her arms slide around his shoulders, clasping at the back of his cold neck. “Well, you should know that I very rarely get sick, Mr. Agreste.”

“We’ll see about that, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Adrien purred, reclaiming her lips after she giggled at their banter. His lips were hot as they moved against hers, and Marinette allowed herself to relish the heat only for a few minutes before she pulled back again, eyes closed, breath labored.

“Nino _did_ say that we should keep the kissing to a minimum,” she acknowledged out loud. At the mention of Nino, Adrien froze, and Marinette glanced up at him, taking in his awkward expression curiously.

“…What?” She asked when he didn’t say anything after a moment.

“Nothing,” Adrien sighed, falling back into his pillows again with all the drama of a soap opera star. “Just…our friends are busybodies.”

Marinette giggled.

“That they are,” she agreed. Her slight smile faded when she registered the way Adrien was watching her, a corner of his mouth pulled down, brow furrowed. She gave him an inquisitive look, brushing his hair out of his face again. “What is it?”

Adrien caught her hand, pressing it to his cheek for a moment before he sighed and let go.

“I have to talk to you, Marinette.”

Marinette blinked. Well, that sounded ominous…

“Okay,” she allowed, turning and getting up from the bed to undo her muffler, coat, and boots, since it appeared that she would be staying longer than she anticipated. Once she laid them off to the side, she rounded the bed, climbing onto the other side.

“Lay down,” she ordered Adrien when it looked as if he wanted to sit up; she put pressure on his shoulder, and he yielded, settling back into his pillows as she stretched out beside him, her head propped up on a hand as her fingers trailed through his hair. Adrien closed his eyes and hummed, apparently pleased with the contact. “So, what’s up?”

Adrien opened his eyes again, his gaze going to the window. A thoughtful frown overtook his features, and Marinette watched him, a low-level hum of dread rumbling through the pit of her stomach. This had to be about last night—it couldn’t be about anything else. The only question that remained, really, was what about last night was bothering Adrien. Clearly, he didn’t mind the kissing, or else he wouldn’t have initiated it again just now. So, just what was it about their newfound intimacy that had Adrien looking like that?

When he took too long to answer, Marinette reached for his jaw, tilting it so that he would look at her. When his eyes reluctantly left the window to settle onto her, she gave him a soft smile.

“You can talk to me, Adrien. We’re still friends, right?”

Adrien’s green eyes sparkled, as they always seemed to do, at the mention of the word ‘friend’.

“Absolutely,” he agreed heartily, taking Marinette’s hand from his jaw, long fingers closing around hers and resting their joined hands against his chest. He muffled a cough, clearing his throat a little before he spoke again. “I’m just, uh, trying to figure out how to word this without it sounding as horrible as it does in my head…”

Marinette inspected his face, the tension in his jaw, the anxious glint in his eyes as he surveyed her, as if searching for a way to gently break news he thought she wouldn’t like to hear. Tilting her head in her hand, she took a shot in the dark.

“You don’t want to be in a relationship, hm?”

Adrien stared at her, his lips parting in surprise.

‘ _Bullseye._ ’

“How—” he turned his head to sneeze into his free hand, groaning in displeasure. Marinette muffled a giggle.

“Maybe we should have this conversation when you’re not so germy.”

“No, no, I want to get this out,” Adrien insisted, reaching over to his nightstand for a tissue. He sniffled, appearing self-conscious until Marinette obligingly looked away. He delivered a squeeze to her hand a moment later, signaling that she was allowed to look at him again. “It’s been on my mind all morning, and I don’t think I’ll get any sleep if we don’t talk about it…”

‘ _So that’s why Nino texted me,_ ’ Marinette surmised, inwardly rolling her eyes at the antics of her friend. He and Alya really _were_ busybodies.

“Mari,” Adrien muttered, bringing Marinette’s attention back to the strain on his face, as if the words he spoke were causing him physical pain. “I like you. A lot. And it’s not that I don’t want to be with you, because I do, so much.” Marinette's face warmed at the confession, and he gave her hand another squeeze before he glanced away. “But…I don’t think I’m in the right place for a relationship. Mentally.”

“Ohhh,” Marinette replied, understanding dawning on her.

“Yeah,” Adrien said, looking relieved that she had caught on. “I’m still working through my issues…and there’s the thing about me getting over Ladybug, too…” Adrien frowned now. “I don’t think my feelings for you have anything to do with being on the rebound or whatever…but I want to be absolutely sure.”

He glanced up at her, gently freeing his hand from hers to touch her cheek.

“You mean too much to me to screw this up, Mari,” he said softly, and Marinette felt a new blush blend into her previous one at such words. “I don’t want to lose you just because I’m a mess right now.”

Marinette huffed, smiling a little.

“You’re not a mess,” she chided him once again with a light swat to his chest. “You’re under construction.”

“An inconvenient mess, then,” he countered, chuckling when Marinette rolled her eyes. His smile fading, he added, “So, I know things kind of escalated between us…but…”

“You’re not ready,” Marinette finished for him, reclaiming his hand with hers and giving it a comforting squeeze. “I understand.”

“Really?”

“Of course. And I’m glad you told me what was going on. Now we’re on the same page.”

Adrien grinned.

“Did we just have an honest-to-god grown-up conversation?”

“I think we did,” Marinette answered, widening her eyes in exaggeration. “Wow…maybe you’re not some bratty twelve year old after all.”

“Bratty?”

“Yes, Adrien, bratty. Being difficult about taking medicine that’s designed to help you get over your cold faster just because it _tastes_ bad is bratty.”

“I am offended by this description.”

“Good. The offense was meant.”

Marinette giggled at Adrien as he pouted. He rolled over, turned towards her, green eyes searching her face.

“…Is this really okay?” He quietly asked, illustrating just how bothered he was that she might be upset by this turn of events. In response, Marinette smiled and leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

“It’s absolutely okay,” she assured him, drawing back to meet his eyes. “No matter what, Adrien, I’m your friend, first and foremost. So if you say you don’t want to be in a relationship—hell, even if you _never_ want to be in a relationship—I’ll still be here for you. Don’t worry about losing me over something so silly, okay?”

Adrien let out a breath, closing his eyes as relief flooded his expression.

“Thank you,” he murmured, bringing the back of Marinette’s hand to his lips and planting a soft kiss to her knuckles. Marinette giggled, easing down so that she was lying beside him, pillowing her head with her free arm.

“Okay? Are you ready to sleep now?”

Adrien opened his eyes again, regarding her anxiously once more, which caused Marinette to frown.

“What?”

“…I don’t want to say the other thing that I told myself to say,” Adrien admitted with a cringe. Marinette merely raised her eyebrows, waiting. After a moment, Adrien huffed, clearing his throat.

“Well…this is the part where I should say that you’re not obligated to wait for me…and that if you meet someone else you want to be with…”

He couldn’t even finish the thought before his hand was tightening around hers, as if she was already slipping from his grasp. Still, Marinette watched as he took a deep breath, muffled a cough, and forced himself to finish.

“…If you meet someone else you want to be with, then you shouldn’t worry about me. More than anything…I want you to be happy.”

Oh no, he was _so cute._ Despite his earnestness, Marinette wanted to tease him.

“Oh? In that case, I should tell you that Chat Noir and I have had a thing going on for _years._ ”

Perhaps the joke was too obvious, for Adrien gave her a flat look.

“Very funny,” he said dryly, and Marinette’s laughter was tinged with guilt.

“Sorry, sorry,” she apologized, smiling awkwardly. “I suppose I shouldn’t be making such jokes…”

“Especially not about an infamous cat man…” Adrien raised a golden eyebrow. “Unless you’re the type that likes bad boys.”

Marinette snorted.

“Yeah _right._ As if I’d go for someone like that…”

For some reason she couldn’t detect, Adrien’s gaze grew suddenly speculative. Feeling herself flush—and not fully comprehending why—she returned to their previous topic.

“While I appreciate that, Adrien, I have to tell you, I’m not really looking at anyone else right now.” Hell, she’d been so busy that anything _close_ to a relationship hadn’t even been on her mind, until she kissed Adrien last night…but she digressed. “If anyone like that ever comes along, I’ll tell you…but it’ll probably be a while, honestly.”

Adrien let out a breath.

“It’s selfish that I’m relieved by that, isn’t it?”

“A little,” Marinette teased, grinning at the chagrined look on his face. “Wanting to keep me all to yourself without putting a ring on my finger? Honestly, how dare you.” She winked, and Adrien laughed, the sound cut short by a cough he smothered with his free hand. Sighing, Marinette sat up, supposing it was tempting fate to remain in such close proximity with a sick person. “So, are we agreed? Friends?”

“Friends,” Adrien agreed with a smile. Returning it, Marinette leaned over to kiss his cheek again, but missed when he turned his head the wrong way, and their lips brushed against each other. They paused, gauging the other’s response…and then, in sync, moved closer, seeking each other’s lips and gifting each other with short, sweet kisses.

“Mm—maybe friends—who, mmph—kiss a little?” Adrien suggested after a moment, his fingers digging into Marinette’s back as he held her close.

“Friends who kiss a _lot_ ,” Marinette paused to correct him, drowning Adrien’s laugh with her lips.

It was nothing short of a miracle that Marinette didn’t get sick that day, with all the illicit kissing that occurred. Lucky, some might call it.

 

* * *

 

“Marinette? Hello? Damn, girl, where are you?”

Marinette blinked back to the present, suddenly aware of Alya snapping fingers in her face. She gave her best friend a sheepish look as Alya huffed impatiently at her.

“Well? Are you gonna tell me what’s up with you and Adrien?”

“Ah…”

Well, despite her musings over that day two weeks ago, Marinette still didn’t have a ready answer. Was she in a relationship with Adrien? No, not really. But was it strictly platonic? Absolutely not. Still, the makeshift label ‘friends who kiss a lot’ probably wouldn’t sit well with Alya…

“We’re still figuring it out,” she hedged, and Alya gave a sigh, he features warping from annoyance to concern.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing? I know how you are with Adrien—”

“Alya,” Marinette cut her off with a stern look, “that was seven years ago. I’m not a silly teenager anymore—I’m a grown woman, and I can handle my own love life, okay?”

Alya raised her hands and her eyebrows, looking surprised and a little bit impressed.

“Damn, girl, all right,” she said, “if you wanted me to back off, all you had to do was ask.”

“I didn’t mean—” Marinette began with a sigh, feeling bad about snapping, but an interruption arrived in the form of the men in their lives.

"Hey Alya," Adrien greeted as he and Nino approached. "Happy birthday."

“Thanks! Oh, and there he is, my handsome groom-to-be,” Alya greeted as Nino grinned widely behind Adrien. “Did you tell your folks yet?”

“Done. They’re thrilled,” Nino replied, slipping into the chair next to Alya’s and kissing her cheek. “How about your mom?”

“She might’ve mentioned something along the lines of ‘it’s about damn time’, but other than that, she and my siblings are excited, too,” Alya reported with a smile. “I was just filling in my maid of honor here.”

Marinette sputtered, shocked at the casual label.

“What? But—Alya, are you sure?”

“What, you don’t want to?” Alya teased, and Marinette hurriedly raised her hands, nearly knocking her malt shake over in her haste, were it not for Adrien’s deft catch.

“No, no, I’m honored, really! I just…you said it in such a matter-of-fact tone…”

“Well, who else am I gonna ask? Adrien?” Raising her eyebrows, Alya turned a speculative look onto the model. “Actually…that could work…”

Adrien gave her a martyr’s grimace.

“You’re already picturing me in some hideous dress, aren’t you?”

“Nah—I’m not so insecure that I’d have my own maid of honor in a terrible dress on my wedding day. _Everyone_ has to look good.”

“Wait, what about Nino?” Marinette asked, shaking her head at the silly conversation. “Won’t you be stealing a potential best man from him if you ask Adrien to be your maid of honor?”

At this, Nino gave a shrug.

“I don’t mind if it means I get to ask you to be my best man,” he joked with a wink, and Marinette sighed before the whole table burst into a fit of laughter.

“A- _hem_ ,” Francoise cleared his throat fussily, and the group hastily quieted their laughing fit.

“Sorry, Francoise,” Marinette apologized for the group, and Francoise walked away, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

“It’s a wonder he hasn’t banned us from this place yet,” Nino remarked, slipping an arm around Alya, who was still working to get her laughter under control.

“Francoise is grumpy, but he knows he loves us,” Marinette reasoned.

“Loves our euro, more like,” Nino countered, and Marinette snickered.

“So, Adrien,” Alya addressed him as soon as she was able, her face still split in a wide grin, “You’re not usually free to hang out with us on Monday afternoons. What’s up? Couldn’t stay away from Marinette?”

Both Marinette and Adrien promptly turned beet red, and while Marinette glared at Alya, Adrien chose to laugh it off.

“Uh, not exactly.” He cleared his throat, giving a tentative smile. “I just find that I have a bit more free time, now that I’ve quit modeling.”

Silence fell at their table as that news sunk in.

“Whoa,” Alya said after a moment, blinking surprised hazel eyes. “Seriously? Adrien Agreste, no longer a supermodel? Your fans must be hanging themselves right now.”

“Alya,” Marinette chided, only to have her best friend shrug at her.

“Hey, I’m just saying.” She quirked a mischievous brow at Marinette. “I bet the only reason you’re still calm is because you get to keep him all to yourself now.”

“Alya!” Marinette protested, feeling her face flush.

“…Huh. Now that you mention it…Mari _was_ the one to suggest I quit,” Adrien admitted, tapping his chin thoughtfully before turning a wicked gaze on an appalled Marinette. “Was that your plan all along, Mari? To get me to quit so you could keep me to yourself?”

Okay, clearly having Alya and Adrien in the same room was detrimental to her health.

“I hate the both of you,” she grumbled, her lower lip jutting out as she scowled at them while they exchanged teasing grins.

“Still,” Nino interjected, looking as if he was doing so for Marinette’s sake, “I am kind of surprised you just decided to up and quit out of the blue, dude.”

“Well, I took some time to think it over, first,” Adrien corrected, frowning down at the table. “There were some pros and cons to weigh…but in the end, the bad outweighed the good, and even I couldn’t justify staying on a career path I couldn’t care less about.”

“So what’re you gonna do now?” Alya asked, swirling her sherbet around before she took a bite. “Go into acting? Or maybe live up to your rich boy status, buy a yacht, and just cruise around the world for a year or two?”

“I still have a company to run, Alya,” Adrien reminded her with a chuckle.

“Oh right, CEO.”  Alya pursed her lips. “Must be nice to have your own company at the age of twenty-two.”

“It has its perks,” Adrien joked.

“And now that you don’t have to keep your model figure, you get to eat whatever you want,” Marinette reminded him, smiling. “I’ll tell Mama the next time I see her; she’ll be thrilled.”

“Ha ha, Sabine does always say that I don’t eat enough,” Adrien agreed with an indulgent look. “When can I come over for dinner again?”

“Uh, whenever you want? Isn’t Mama always saying that?”

“Well, yeah, but I still feel like it’s a bit rude to drop by unannounced…”

“Please, she and Papa adore you. I can’t visit them anymore without them demanding information about you, like I’m your keeper. It’s actually kind of sad, seeing as how I’m their only daughter, but you’ve become the favorite somehow.”

“Aw, don’t be jealous, Mari. If it helps, you’re still number one with me.”

“Ugh,” Nino interrupted their banter, and Marinette and Adrien glanced over to find that he and Alya were wearing similar expressions of distaste. “You guys are so sweet it’s sickening.”

“Seriously,” Alya agreed, sticking out her tongue. “I’m getting diabetes just watching you two.”

“Right? I know _we_ just got engaged—”

“—But _you two_ act like you’re newlyweds on a constant honeymoon.”

Adrien and Marinette’s faces promptly exploded with red.

“We’re not like that,” they denied in unison.

“Uh-huh,” Nino and Alya answered at the same time, their sarcastic tones pitch perfect. Marinette sighed as the couple across from her and Adrien moved on to their dinner plans for the night for Alya’s birthday, listing the location and the time as well as discussing which entrees on the menu they were already eager to try. She briefly wondered if she should be worried about the way she and Adrien appeared to others before dismissing the issue. It wasn’t like they were outright flirting with each other; they had just been having a conversation, for god’s sake. And yet Nino and Alya acted like they had been clasping hands and gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes for ten straight minutes, or something incredibly sappy like that—

A hand slipped over hers, under the table, giving it a squeeze. Marinette glanced over, finding Adrien’s attention rapt as he listened to Nino discuss the restaurant they would all be heading to tonight. He didn’t look over to meet her gaze, but as he asked a question about how formal they should dress, his thumb began to rub circles into the back of Marinette’s hand. Smiling, she squeezed his hand back, and was just able to detect the curling of the corner of his lips.

What she and Adrien were didn’t have an easily definable label they could just slap on it.

But did it work for them?

Absolutely.

 

* * *

 

Marinette paused just outside her door to lock it, smoothing out her coat over her dress. Okay, she was ready—purse? Check. Phone? Check. Tikki, on the off-chance that an akuma attack occurred tonight? Che—

There was the sound of squealing tires as a car tore around the corner, and Marinette’s head snapped up, gaping in horror as the owner of the car sped at an injudicious speed down the street, fleeing from someone in a black and red costume, a cold sense of purpose on her face as she swung from streetlight to streetlight, using something that resembled a grappling gun of some sort.

Akuma.

_Fuck._

Cursing furiously under her breath, Marinette took off down the street, attempting to keep the akuma in her sights, but it soon became impossible, especially since she was wearing heels. Ducking into a nearby alleyway, Marinette opened her purse, releasing Tikki and grabbing her phone.

“Marinette, what are you doing? You have to transform!” Tikki prodded her as Marinette scrolled through her emergency contacts, selecting Nino’s contact information.

“I have to tell Nino what’s going on,” she said, pressing the phone to her ear after she hit ‘dial’. Within a few rings, Nino picked up.

“Hey, ‘Nette. What’s up, are you lost? We’re just getting to the restaurant now—”

“Nino,” Marinette spoke urgently, cutting him off, “I need you to call me back as soon as you’re alone. We have a situation.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Well, okay, but try not to stay too long, okay? I know you love your mom, and all, but I’m sure she’ll understand that you have dinner plans,” Nino replied calmly, and Marinette let out a breath.

“Thank you, Nino. Apologize to Alya for me.”

“You got it. Later.”

To Nino’s credit, he didn’t take long—Marinette was only left to pace anxiously in the alleyway for three minutes before he called her back, his voice grim.

“There’s an akuma?”

“Yeah,” Marinette confirmed, her tone heavy. “I just saw her swing by. She was chasing someone’s car, for some reason.”

Nino swore.

“Of all the nights…okay, where do you want me to meet you?”

Marinette bit her lip. While it would help to have Emerald Shell on her side while dealing with the akuma…to leave Alya all alone on her birthday, after the drama they had all just gone through over the weekend…

“Actually…I need you to stay put, Nino.”

“What?!”

“I don’t want Alya having her birthday dinner by herself,” Marinette reasoned, pinching the bridge of her nose as she huffed. “We’ve already put her through too much this week. I’ll take this one on my own tonight, and show up as soon as I can.”

“Seriously, ‘Nette? You wanna do this alone, after what happened yesterday?”

Marinette tensed and swallowed. She had been trying so hard not to think about what happened yesterday, but now that he brought it up—

Marinette shook her head, willing the horrifying images out of her mind. Now was not the time. She had work to do.

“I can handle it, Nino, promise. Just stay there, all right? I’ll get there as soon as possible.”

Before Nino could protest any more, Marinette hung up, dropping her phone back into her purse.

“Marinette, is this wise?” Tikki asked her, frowning in concern. Marinette matched her kwami’s expression.

“Maybe not…but I have to do this. I’m Ladybug—I can handle it.”

Tikki sighed, but then nodded.

“If you’re sure, Marinette…”

“I’m sure.” Marinette brushed her hand against her earring. “Tikki, transform me!”

One magical transformation later, Ladybug was suited up and ready for action. She swung through the glowing streets of Paris, searching for the black and red-suited akuma she’d spotted earlier.

It didn’t take long to find her—especially when the akuma made her location as obvious as it could get.

Ladybug was drawn up short, skidding to a halt as she rounded one street, wide eyes staring at the sight before her.

A massive, criss-crossing web of black and red wire had been erected before her, blocking off the rest of the street. And trapped on the web were—oh god. Were those _bodies_?!

Ladybug’s heart stopped for one staggering moment before she realized the bodies were moving, squirming for freedom, alive. A relieved breath whooshed out of her, and she was able to focus, to count just how many civilians—all men, it looked like—were trapped there. As she was counting, however, the odd placement of the trapped civilians distracted her. Ladybug frowned, backing up a little so her eyes could register the shapes the struggling forms made. That looked like an L…the next one, an A…

 _LADYBUG_.

The captured civilians spelled out her name.

Ladybug stared, her mouth coming open.

If that wasn’t the most intentional call-out—

“Ah ha. The heroine appears. I suspected you’d show up sooner the more ruckus I made.”

Ladybug assumed a defensive stance as a figure suddenly descended from the ‘Y’ of the name spelled out on the web, landing lightly on the ground. Ladybug’s first glance of her was proven accurate: the akuma’s costume was mostly black, save for an hourglass of red splashed across the front of her suit, the ruby brooch that rested in the hollow of her throat, and the hourglass shape across the middle of her otherwise black mask. Her hair was short, cut into a pixie shape, and her amber eyes burned as they regarded Ladybug contemptuously.

“I am Black Widow. And I’m here to destroy you.”

Ladybug had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes. If she had a euro for every time she heard that…

“And what have I done to offend you?” Ladybug wanted to know, resting a hand on her hip, where her yo-yo hung. She didn’t want to come out swinging if she could avoid it—the past few weeks of working with Shell had taught Ladybug that sometimes, force wasn’t the only way to solve things. In fact, he preferred to talk to the akumatized victims first, to try and see things from their point of view, before they had to actually fight. It didn’t work all the time, but the few times it did had left an impression on Ladybug. If she could manage to solve this without violence—especially since she was out her on her own tonight—then it would be a victory well-won.

Black Widow appeared to unhook something from behind her, holding it loosely at her side. It appeared to be a pistol at first glance, but there was a telltale centimeter of wire hanging out of the end, tied off by what looked like a red hourglass charm. Ladybug was willing to bet that was how the wire web was conceived, and she unhooked her yo-yo, just in case Black Widow tried to pull a fast one on her.

“It isn’t a question of what you’ve done,” spoke the akuma, taking a slow, measured step towards Ladybug. “It’s what you failed to do.”

“Meaning?” Ladybug bothered to ask, mirroring Black Widow’s next step, conscious about keeping distance between them as the akumatized victim spun her tale.

“Just yesterday, there was an accident,” Black Widow said, her voice and steps even as she and Ladybug moved around in a wide, arcing circle, neither of them taking their eyes off the other for one second. “You might have seen it on the news: Marc Bonnhomme, forty-one years old, renowned politician…and Chat Noir supporter. He was found possessing knowledge of several more planned attacks on akumatized victims, and labeled a terrorist. There was a warrant out for his arrest, and his public image was in shambles in a matter of mere hours. Therefore, he apparently had nothing left to lose.”

Ladybug paused, feeling the blood drain from her face. Yes, indeed, she had seen the news report later that evening: a man had apparently climbed the _Arc de Triomphe,_ and no reasoning from the police could coax him down. He had apparently stood up there for an hour, waiting for something…until finally, with one determined leap, away from the landing pad the police had deployed, his only hope for survival—

“It was a very long hour,” Black Widow continued casually as a painful lump sprang into existence in Ladybug’s throat. “The whole time I watched, praying. Surely, Ladybug would save him. Ladybug would forgive him, would grant him the salvation he so desperately needed. Ladybug would come and save the day as always…”

Black Widow paused, a hand at her brooch, her narrow eyes piercing right through Ladybug.

“But you didn’t come.” There was a slight tremor in her voice now. “And he _died_.”

 _“Where was Ladybug?”_ That had been a popular question during the news broadcast Marinette watched, horrified tears sliding down her face. She knew exactly where she had been: locked in her room with her sewing machine, ignorant of the world around her. She usually had the T.V. on for background noise, but not yesterday—yesterday, she had to focus, because she was falling behind schedule. Yesterday, she had to finish the Bee Miraculous-inspired dress she had been working so hard on, because time was running out and her fashion career was depending on it. The only thing that had been on her mind yesterday was her livelihood…

And because of that, she completely missed the emergency news broadcast until it was way too late.

It was a very long and sleepless night. Nino had called, berating himself for his inattentiveness the first chance he got, but Marinette wouldn’t hear of it: it was she who usually watched for trouble, and it was she who had failed to do so. Therefore, the blame lay with her, and her alone.

And now, the very tragedy she had been working hard not to focus on all day had come back to haunt her in the worst way possible.

“You’re his widow,” she acknowledged quietly to Black Widow, whose eyelids lowered dangerously.

“I was,” she confirmed in a clipped tone. “Now…I am your reaper.”

Without warning, she fired her gun, and wire shot at Ladybug. She jumped out of the way, sending out her yo-yo to flee—but she hadn’t anticipated multiple grappling guns. Just as she was gaining leverage on a nearby streetlight, there was a yank to her ankle, and she was pulled off balance. Ladybug hit the ground hard, and was being dragged rapidly backwards as the wire from Black Widow’s grappling gun began to reel her in. Ladybug tossed her yo-yo at the grappling gun, knocking it from Black Widow’s grip. As she jumped up and ran, towards the web, she heard the tell-tale whizzing of Black Widow’s second grappling gun, and she ducked just in time, growling as the added weight of the loose grappling gun trailing behind her threw her balance off. She paused for a precious second, fingers scrabbling against the wire clinging to her ankle, but it was no use—the wire was taut, and had no give, no matter which way Ladybug tugged. And Black Widow was swooping down upon her, dropping from the sky once again. Gritting her teeth, Ladybug sent her yo-yo to the top of the web Black Widow had created, allowing it to pull her up, hoping some distance would turn the battle in her favor—

The feel of wire suddenly winding itself around her neck was alarming, and Ladybug choked as she was yanked back, her yo-yo ripped from her hands as she plummeted to the ground. Pain lanced through her back as she hit the concrete, but she knew it could be so much worse were it not for her suit. Still, she was winded and dazed, vulnerable to Black Widow. The akuma took full advantage of the situation: she kicked Ladybug over, unwinding the grappling gun from her ankle to reattach it to Ladybug’s wrists. She dragged Ladybug up to her feet this way, her other grappling gun shooting to the top of the web. Black Widow zipped to the top, Ladybug in tow, standing atop the taut wire as she let Ladybug hang below her by her wrists. As much as Ladybug thrashed and struggled, she couldn’t get free, and it was with a steady, crushing despair that she realized her worst fear: she was _helpless._

“See your so-called ‘heroine’, gentlemen,” Black Widow called to the men still trapped within her web. “See how easily she is bested? In the end, she is nothing and no one—a bug to be crushed under a boot.”

“ _Madame_ Bonnhomme, _please,_ ” Ladybug entreated, fighting a rising panic as Black Widow leaned over her, her pitiless gaze studying Ladybug. “Think about what you’re doing!”

“I know exactly what I’m doing, little girl,” Black Widow said, her voice soft and dangerous as a gloved hand brushed Ladybug’s ear. “First, I’m going to take your Miraculous and destroy it, so no other Ladybug can arise ever again. And then, I’m going to throw you back to the ground like the trash you are, left for the buzzards. Ladybug no more.”

“T-the Butterfly won’t be happy if you destroy my Miraculous!” Ladybug bluffed desperately, but even she knew this stall for time would do nothing. She had told Nino to stay out of this, to stay with Alya…he wouldn’t be coming to save her…no one could save her now…

Black Widow laughed, the sound dark and humorless.

“The Butterfly doesn’t care about your Miraculous,” Black Widow informed Ladybug, who could feel herself trembling as Black Widow’s fingers latched onto her earlobe, about to undo Ladybug’s entire existence. “Their goals are mine: seeing you finished. Perhaps you should’ve paid better attention to who you neglected in your superhero career…but it’s too late now. Goodbye, you insignificant bug.”

Ladybug struggled harder than ever, fighting with everything she had, her legs kicking out and striking nothing but air. She tried to lean away from the Black Widow’s fingers, but they pinched her earlobe, yanking at her earring. Ladybug squeezed her eyes shut, fighting against the tears she could feel coming, for she had failed, failed so incredibly hard. This was it, the end of Ladybug—the end of Marinette. What would her parents say? What would the police deduce happened? The media was nowhere nearby, capricious as they were, and Ladybug was both grateful and cursed them for it. The only person who would know what happened would be Nino…but was it fair to leave such a burden for him to resolve, once she was gone? How could she leave him to explain to Alya why her best friend had been found lonely and broken in the middle of the street?

And Adrien…against all odds, she had found her way back to Adrien. And he was finding his way back to himself, back to a healthy head space. He was doing so well…but Marinette would never get to see any more of his progress. She would never see Alya and Nino get married. She would never see her parents again. It was over…over…

Just as she felt her earring begin to come loose, she heard it: _La Marseillaise_ , the French national anthem, whistled from a distance, but growing louder.

Black Widow seemed to hear it, too; she paused, fingertips poised at Ladybug’s ear. Ladybug forced her eyes open, blinking the moisture out of her eyes as she searched desperately for the whistler, hoping they would be friend rather than foe—

And then she spotted him: a tall man with shaggy blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail and black cat ears, clad in a black leather suit that clung to every plane of his body, bell bouncing against his chest as he hopped from streetlight to streetlight, casual as anything. His lips were pursed as he continued whistling, glancing up just as he reached the last streetlight before the web blocked the rest of the street. His green cat’s eyes glittered as he took in the scene before him, and the end note of his whistled version of _La Marseillaise_ ended on a long, exaggerated note.

“…Wow,” Chat Noir said after a still moment, tilting his head to the side as he stared up at Black Widow and Ladybug. “Did I stumble upon a cat fight?” His eyes glinted mischievously as he took in the webbing. “…Or a _bug_ fight, rather?”

Ladybug never thought she would be so happy to hear one of Chat’s stupid jokes in her life.

“Chat Noir,” Black Widow greeted coolly. Her hand withdrew from Ladybug’s ear, and Ladybug felt her heart rate slow, just a little. “This is a surprise. …Have you come to kill me?”

“Eh,” Chat Noir replied with a shrug as he jumped down to the street, landing in a crouch before he straightened up, cat’s eyes inscrutable as he addressed Black Widow. “Any other time, sure…but I’m not really _feline_ it tonight. The whole ‘superhero’ shtick’s gotten a bit old.”

Chat Noir flexed his hand, his eyes going to the ring he wore on his right hand with disdain.

“Honestly, I’d probably be better off without this damn Miraculous,” he reasoned.

Ladybug stared down at him, shocked into silence. Sure, he had admitted his desire to retire to Marinette, but she had been certain that, after Saturday, he had had a change of heart. Was that just wishful thinking? Or had the harsh words of Emerald Shell convinced him that the superhero life was no longer for him?

“Really?” Black Widow asked, her tone suggesting she thought he was full of it. “So what brings you out here if you’re so bored with your superhero life?”

“Well, I was looking for Ladybug,” Chat Noir admitted, and Ladybug’s heart gave a painful thump as his gaze settled onto her. “I can’t take this ring off without her.”

“Why would you need Ladybug’s help to remove your ring?”

“Because it’s cursed,” Chat answered, giving an exasperated look as he raised his hand, his ring facing forward. “I didn’t know it at the time, but this Miraculous is infused with all the bad luck of a black cat, which means I can’t take it off by myself.” To illustrate, he made a show of yanking on the ring, which refused to budge from his finger until he gave up. “See? So I’m pretty much stuck with the damn thing…unless I get some good luck to counter-balance it.”

Chat shrugged, staring up at Ladybug.

“Which means I need a kiss from Ladybug to take it off.”

Ladybug stared back at him, speechless. What the _hell_ was he talking about?

“You need a kiss from Ladybug to take off your Miraculous,” Black Widow summarized, her tone flat and unimpressed.

“Trust me, I’m just as aggravated as you are,” Chat assured her, folding his arms. “It’s not like Ladybug and I have been on the best of terms lately. But I’m sick of this. I have better things to do with my life than to run around in a suit that screams ‘BDSM reject’.” He gave a shrug, leveling a flat look at Black Widow. “I don’t care what you plan to do with her, but one way or another, I’m getting this ring off me tonight.”

Casually, he lifted a hand, his fingers arched, showing off his claws.

“You can stand in my way if you want to, _Madame Araigne_ …but just remember that Ladybug was the only thing standing in between me and the akuma in the past. And you’ve got her trussed up at the moment.”

Ladybug heard a small sound behind her, a muffled curse. And then there was silence for a very long moment—

Ladybug gasped as she felt herself being lowered, her wrists still tied and held over her head, her arms aching from being left hanging for so long.

“Very well, Chat Noir,” Black Widow drawled from above, “take your kiss if you must. I only allow you this because I know my husband greatly admired you. This favor is in his memory.”

“ _Merci, Madame Araigne,_ ” Chat replied, stepping forward to intercept Ladybug as she was lowered far enough for him to reach her.

“And keep your hands where I can see them,” Black Widow ordered, and Chat made a show of raising his right hand, his left going around Ladybug to steady her.

“Chat,” Ladybug whispered urgently, wide eyes searching his desperately, for assurance, pity, anything. “Chat, please—”

“Shh,” Chat shushed her, a clawed finger to her lips as he stepped closer, eyes unreadable. “Close your eyes, Ladybug.”

Ladybug felt fresh tears begin to well within her eyes, and it was for that reason only that she closed them. Was this it, then? Did everything she thought she felt with Chat on Saturday mean nothing? Was he really lost to her for good?

Was it really over between them?

She could feel his breath on her lips. Ladybug trembled, fighting back a sob. What she wouldn’t give to go back in time, to the days where he would jump into danger for her, despite the way it made her heart leap into her throat every time he pulled off something dangerous just to defend her—

“ _Cataclysm._ ”

Ladybug’s eyes flew open in time to see Chat’s claws flash through the air, ripping through the wire that bound her wrists together. The wire promptly disintegrated, and Ladybug was free, cradled briefly in Chat’s free arm before he set her down onto her feet. As she rubbed feeling back into her wrists, there was an angry snarl from above, and she glanced up to find that Black Widow had been thrown off-balance when she abruptly lost Ladybug’s weight; she clung awkwardly to the top of her web, flinging her now useless grappling gun aside.

“Treacherous cat!” She spat, baring her teeth. “You tricked me!”

“Oops?” Was the only non-apology Chat offered, with a shrug and a roguish grin. “I guess you shouldn’t really take a cat at its word all the time, huh?”

“You will _pay_ for this!” Black Widow hissed, but Chat looked nothing short of amused as he drew his baton and lifted a hand in invitation.

“Come down from your web and dance with me, then, _Madame Araigne_ ,” he said, all cheek.

“Chat—”

“Your yo-yo,” Chat cut her off, sparing Ladybug a quick glance before his gaze flickered back to Black Widow, who was quickly descending upon them with her free grappling gun, fire and hate blazing in her eyes. “Go get it.”

He nudged her out of the way as he jumped back himself, blocking the shot Black Widow took at him. Ladybug was stood frozen, her heart hammering as she watched the deadly wire from Black Widow’s grappling gun shoot in short spurts, becoming bolas, the weights at the ends two red hourglasses, which she aimed at Chat Noir’s legs to try and trip him up as he danced around her, using his baton as leverage whenever possible.

“Ladybug, what are you doing?!” Demanded one of the civilians that still hung from the web, capturing Ladybug’s attention. “Do what the cat man said! Get your yo-yo!”

“Oh, right!”

Shaking her head, Ladybug climbed onto the web, scaling it as rapidly as she could, her eyes on her yo-yo, tangled at the top of the web. A part of her was still reeling at the sudden turn of events, but she shoved that part of her into the corner, to be dealt with at a later time. She just needed her yo-yo…then she could put this whole mess right…almost there…

“Gotcha,” she mumbled, reaching her yo-yo, tugging at the end to untangle it just as a loud thud and an “oof!” sounded behind her. Whirling dangerously as she clung to the web, Ladybug’s eyes widened when she saw that Chat was down, his legs trapped in a bolas. He was using his baton to ward off Black Widow, but she appeared to be a tough opponent, pushing against the baton so hard it smacked Chat Noir in the face. The skin of his forehead split open, and he blinked, dazed.

“You want help getting your Miraculous off?” Hissed Black Widow, seizing his right wrist as he was distracted. “Allow me…”

Ladybug was moving before she realized it, using her yo-yo to arc through the air, towards Black Widow’s back. She slammed into the akuma with her feet, kicking her forward, off Chat Noir. As Black Widow groaned and rolled over, clutching at her face, Ladybug dropped down behind her and rushed forward, pinning her to the ground before she could go anywhere.

“How _dare_ you!” Ladybug spat, her fist flying into Black Widow’s cheek, snapping her head sideways. She was dimly surprised at this rage, how all-consuming it was, as if to encompass all the fear and anguish she had just gone through, coming to a peak the minute Ladybug witnessed Black Widow draw blood from Chat Noir. Sure, Black Widow had tried to take her Miraculous, and had even tried to _kill_ her, but for her to _attack Chat Noir—_

Ladybug raised her fist again, intending to leave as large a bruise as she could, when her arm was seized.

“Ladybug, no!”

Ladybug’s head whipped around, about to snarl at whoever was interrupting to mind their own business—

Blue met green, and the eyes of Chat Noir broke through Ladybug’s blind rage. Blood seeped from the wound on his forehead, but he didn’t seem to care, and the way he stared at her—as if he was surprised at her—jolted her back to herself, made her realize exactly what she was doing. Her body shook, and she was breathing heavily, adrenaline pounding through her body. ‘ _More, more, more,_ ’ her blood seemed to chant as her fist flexed. She hadn’t paid proper retribution to Black Widow yet, hadn’t paid her back in kind for all the panic and pain she’d inspired…was Ladybug just going to let her go unpunished?

Even as her emotions cried out for justice—or vengeance, really—only Chat Noir’s gaze kept her anchored, reminding her of who she was…who she was meant to be, no matter how angry she might feel. He watched her, saying nothing as sense returned to her, and when she closed her eyes, he dropped her arm, as if he could sense that she was herself again.

That kind of faith he exhibited, even after their time apart, tightened something in Ladybug, but she couldn’t focus on it; she still had a job to do.

As Black Widow struggled underneath her, snarling obscenities, Ladybug reached down, tugging the brooch from her throat. This had to be where the akuma was housed…as soon as she broke it…

Ladybug threw the brooch to the ground, smashing it with her fist—

A terrible scream suddenly split through the silence of the night, and Ladybug cringed. A part of her hoped it wouldn’t happen…but if the akumas screamed because _Chat Noir_ hurt the victims, then why would she be any different?

She snatched the screaming akuma out of the sky, purifying it and sending it on into the night a harmless butterfly. With just a chant of her restoring phrase, the widow’s web dissolved, returning the captured men to the street, much to their relief.

The woman on the ground de-akumatized, leaving a middle-aged woman in black, who frowned and stirred, finally blinking gray eyes open.

“What…” she began softly, pushing herself to sit up. Ladybug noticed her hand go to her cheek, saw her flinch as her fingers made contact. Her cheek was swelling from the blow Ladybug dealt to it; no doubt it would bruise before the night was out.

Her fault.

“ _Madame_ Bonnhomme, this is yours,” Ladybug told her, holding out her brooch, much to the widow’s surprise. “I’m sorry for your loss. If there’s anything I can do—”

Her surprise melting away rapidly, the widow snatched her brooch from Ladybug, climbing to her feet to glare down at Ladybug, as if she was her judge, jury, and executioner. Swallowing, Ladybug stood as well, forcing herself not to shy away from _Madame_ Bonnhomme’s furious gaze. She had every right to be angry: Ladybug had failed her in the worst imaginable way.

“Your apology means nothing,” she spat at Ladybug, angry tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. “You can’t turn back time. You can’t bring my Marc back. You had the power to do something before it was too late, but you didn’t, and now he’s _gone._ What kind of hero are you?!”

Ladybug flinched. The words were hard to hear, but they weren’t untrue. It was Ladybug’s responsibility to save Marc Bonnhomme…but she didn’t. And now he was dead.

All her fault.

Her silence did nothing to comfort _Madame_ Bonnhomme, nor did it vindicate her—after a furiously silent moment, she spun on her heel and marched away, the slight trembling of her legs the only suggestion that she perhaps wasn’t all fury and fire. Ladybug stepped forward, intending to go after her and say…what? What could she possibly say that wouldn’t ring hollow to the poor widow’s ears? How could she right something that had gone so horribly wrong that ‘right’ was no longer an option anymore…?

A hand fell on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“Let it go,” a voice suggested in her ear. “It can’t really be helped. People do crazy things when they’re grieving.”

Speaking of crazy…

Ladybug turned, allowing herself to become fully occupied with Chat Noir, now that the akumatized victim had been healed…in the physical sense. She took in all of him, from his shaggy blonde hair to his cat-toed boots. She took in the way he held his arms awkwardly at his sides, as if it was a struggle to keep them there, at the stiff set of his jaw, the way his eyes were fixed on her, wary and heartbroken. Thanks to her restorative powers, the cut on his forehead had disappeared, since it had been damage caused by an akuma, even if it was his own weapon. The sight of his unblemished skin set loose a coil that had been wound tight within Ladybug, and she sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. Thank god he was all right…

“…You’re not gonna hit me?” Chat questioned after a moment, and Ladybug opened her eyes to find him smiling awkwardly. “Not even a slap for all the hell I put you through? Or would you prefer to yell at me? Because yelling would be effective too, if that’s how you want to express how incredibly pissed you are at me—”

Ladybug reached up, and Chat flinched, bracing himself…as Ladybug lightly patted his cheek. He blinked, staring down at her as her hand rested there. She tried to smile, but the signals got mixed somewhere from her brain to her face, and she felt herself tear up instead. Chat’s eyes widened, and Ladybug leaned forward so she wouldn’t have to see his face, burying her head in his shoulder as she clutched at him, an embarrassing sob escaping her.

“Oh, no, no no, Ladybug, please,” Chat begged, his voice breaking as his arms went around her, holding her tight. “I’ll take the punches and the kicks, anything but this. This is the _worst_ punishment you could’ve come up with. Oh, Ladybug, please don’t cry…”

“You…damn…stray,” Ladybug choked out, lightly tapping her fist against his chest as she cried.

“I’m so sorry, My Lady,” Chat whispered, arms tight around her as he rubbed her back. “I’m so sorry, and I know I’ll never make this up to you, but I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying anyway. You don’t have to forgive me. Just know that I’m sorry.”

Ladybug was content to just stay here, in the shelter of Chat’s arms as he whispered apologies and reassurances to her, his presence finally soothing that deep ache within her that throbbed every time she thought of the crevice that had split between them, at first a gaping wide chasm that seemed impassible. But now…

“There she is!”

“Ladybug! Ladybug, over here!”

Ladybug sighed. Reporters. Of course.

She and Chat pulled apart. Neither of them had to exchange one word; as one, they both leapt to a nearby roof and escaped into the night, fleeing to the one place Ladybug had been avoiding since their partnership had dissolved the last time she was there.

The Eiffel Tower was as beautiful as it always was, but neither she nor Chat stopped to fully appreciate its beauty; instead they swung and climbed all the way to the top, the city of Paris sprawling beneath them, a wondrous sight…if they had really been looking, anyway.

No, tonight, Ladybug and Chat Noir had only eyes for each other.

The air was much colder up here, but Ladybug barely felt it; Chat’s presence pushed all else from her mind, and she focused on him now, clutching at her elbows as she waited for him to say something.

It was a feat he was struggling with: several times he opened his mouth, only to close it again when nothing came out. He sighed in frustration after a moment, rubbing the back of his head.

“I’m trying to figure out how much I should apologize before it starts getting obnoxious,” he admitted sheepishly. This confession pulled a laugh from Ladybug.

“Let’s put the apologies on hold for now, then,” she suggested, sobering as she took a step toward him. “…What made you come out tonight? Really.”

“Well, I really _was_ looking for you,” Chat admitted, scratching his cheek. “I was hoping to run into you on patrol or something…I didn’t expect you to be in the clutches of an akuma, though.” Chat frowned. “Why wasn’t Emerald Shell with you?”

“I sent him on another mission he had to fulfill,” Ladybug answered, wanting to protect Shell’s honor. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been there because he didn’t want to be; Ladybug had left him no options. Chat was still frowning, however, and so Ladybug moved on. “Why were you looking for me?”

“Ah…” Chat’s cat ears flattened against his head as he glanced away from her, looking ashamed. Ladybug waited for him to slowly articulate his thoughts. “I…ever since Trinket, I…”

“You…what?” Ladybug prompted when he took too long to finish his thought. Chat blew out a sigh, turning his troubled gaze back onto Ladybug.

“I was an asshole,” he said, without preamble or filter. “I was selfish, irresponsible, and I willingly blinded myself with my own beliefs, just so I didn’t have to stop and wonder for _one second_ if what I was doing was actually right.

“And I hurt you,” Chat acknowledged, his voice and eyes lowering. “I hurt you so badly, like it was nothing. And no matter how much I apologize, I know I can never take it back.”

His cat’s eyes met hers again, anguished.

“You’ll never know how sorry I am for that, Ladybug. I could apologize for the rest of my life, and it still wouldn’t express just how much I’m sorry for everything.”

Briefly, Ladybug thought back to the visits Chat Noir paid to her as Marinette, the way his eyes had looked—lost and lonely—when he spoke of her costumed self to her civilian self. Maybe those visits hadn’t encompassed the entirety of Chat Noir’s regret…but Ladybug still felt she had decent enough insight to how sorry he truly was.

Breathing deeply, Ladybug exhaled the rest of her anger, her misgivings, everything negative she still associated with Chat Noir. It was cleansing, and she felt lighter, which made it easier for her to step forward, toe to toe with Chat. He watched her, tension emanating from him as Ladybug stared up at him, deliberating for one last moment…

Finally, she reached forward, resting a hand against his face once again. She was able to smile this time around as Chat’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I forgive you, _chaton,_ ” she told him, and it was sweet relief to speak the words, after months of painful tension building between them.

Chat’s lips parted in surprise, his eyes shining as he stared at her, as if she couldn’t be real.

“…Really...?” He asked softly, the question whimpered, broken. The sound made her heart throb painfully, and so she decided to lighten the mood.

“Yes. You’ve been a stray for too long, and I miss my partner. So, if you want to come back, you can…” Ladybug lifted her hand from his face to raise a finger. “On one condition.”

“Name it,” Chat said without hesitance, standing straighter, as if he wished to prove himself. “Anything, Ladybug.”

“You’re on probation,” Ladybug said, sternly and without hesitation, before her face split into a knowing smile. “…which means you’re only allowed to use one cat pun per day.”

Chat’s jaw dropped.

“Only _one?!_ My Lady, surely, you can’t be serious—”

“Do you want to rejoin the team or not?” Ladybug asked him, giving him a look. “It’s probation or nothing, Chat Noir.”

Chat gave her a pouty cat face, which made Ladybug laugh so much that she nearly missed it when her Miraculous gave a beep. Chat’s Miraculous echoed hers, and they glanced at one another with matching rueful smiles.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” Chat said, taking a careful step back.

“Mine too,” Ladybug admitted with a shrug. “I have dinner plans that I’m late for.”

“Unfortunate.” A ghost of Chat’s usual smirk appeared on his face; he was still being careful around her, something Ladybug appreciated. Despite her forgiving him and their agreement to work together again, it would probably take them some time for things to heal completely. But they were getting there. “So…I’ll see you later?”

“Shelly and I were planning to patrol on Friday night,” Ladybug told him, smiling sympathetically when Chat’s smirk dropped at the mention of Shell. “I’ll introduce you two then.”

“Ah, right. He’s…not going to be happy about this arrangement, is he?”

“He’ll get over it,” Ladybug reasoned with a careless shrug. Honestly, it didn’t much matter to her whether Shell disapproved or not—if Chat Noir hadn’t shown up tonight, she would’ve been dead, or grievously injured if she was lucky, her Miraculous destroyed, Tikki gone from her life forever. No matter what Shelly said, tonight just proved that Chat would always be Ladybug’s partner.

“Then I’ll see you Friday,” Chat said, extending his baton as he prepared to leave. “Where are you meeting?”

“Oh…we hadn’t decided yet—”

“I’ll find you,” Chat assured her. Ladybug’s hand rested on her yo-yo, preparing to leave…but the longer she looked at Chat, the more she knew that she couldn’t just leave things like this. And so she surged forward, taking Chat by surprise as she wound her arms around him once again, holding him tight.

“Welcome back, Kitty,” she muttered, smiling to herself when Chat slipped his arms around her as well, giving her a squeeze.

“Thank you, My Lady.”

Ladybug let her eyes close again, pulling comfort from the steady thrumming of Chat Noir’s heartbeat in her ear. Finally, the world had stopped spinning, and she felt grounded, centered. Balanced.

The twinning beeps from their Miraculous forced them apart again, parting smiles and jaunty salutes the only words of goodbye they shared before they each took off into the night, their own agendas on their minds.

Ladybug was forced to return to her apartment, for it would seem strange if she arrived at the restaurant without her car. It turned out to be a blessing, however; once she had de-transformed and approached her car, one look in her side mirror was enough to tell her that she needed to re-do her makeup, thanks to all the crying she did. Marinette cursed under her breath and rushed to do that, shooting a quick text Nino’s way to let him know that she was fine, and that she’d be arriving soon.

Once she was deemed presentable, she sped all the way to the restaurant, relying on her luck to keep her off any police officer’s radar, and she made it to the restaurant within record time. She was so busy rushing to the door that she didn’t realize there was someone else in a hurry as well, until their hands overlapped when they both reached for the handle of the door.

“Oh! I’m sor—” Marinette began hastily, only to blink in surprise when she noticed it was Adrien, who was giving her the same mystified stare.

“Oh, hey,” he greeted, chuckling sheepishly as she gave an awkward smile. “You running late, too?”

“Ah, yeah, kind of lost track of time,” Marinette answered as casually as she could, discreetly smoothing down her hair.

“Yeah, I got caught up in some stuff, too,” Adrien said vaguely as he opened the door for Marinette. “Oh well. At least we’re here now, right?”

“Oh yeah: now Alya can commit double homicide in one go instead of hunting us down individually,” Marinette remarked dryly, and Adrien laughed, slipping his hand into hers and giving it a squeeze.

“At least then our vengeful ghosts can haunt her at the same time.”

“Sounds fun,” Marinette allowed, flashing a grin Adrien’s way as the maître d’ led them through the restaurant. “You can make creepy sounds, and I’ll levitate stuff.”

“Aw, I wanna levitate stuff!”

“Trade-off every midnight?” Marinette offered. Adrien grinned and gave her hand another squeeze.

“Deal,” he agreed. “Guess we’re partners, then.”

‘Partners’.

The word never had a sweeter ring to Marinette until tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alya then proceeds to punish them for being late by pointing out that they arrived late at the same time and wondering loudly what they could've been up to. They both are as red as cherries before they can order appetizers, and Nino just shrugs when both Marinette and Adrien give him S.O.S looks. XD
> 
> But ahhhh, LadyNoir, welcome back~
> 
> ...Actually, I'm saying that too early. Could it still be considered LadyNoir if a certain cat stops flirting, but a certain bug finds herself pining? Hmm...
> 
> Questions for another time. :D
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	21. Blind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a message to all you crazy people who have been complaining about loss of sleep to me:
> 
> You are allowed to sleep! The story isn't going anywhere! Go to bed, jeez! XD
> 
> BTU is over 200,000 words long. OF COURSE YOU CAN'T BINGE READ IT WITHOUT CONSEQUENCES.
> 
> I officially wash my hands of all you irresponsible enough to actually read it one sitting; I take no blame for this. Ruin your sleeping schedules if you want to; I'll just be over here cackling with my imaginary cat in my lap and a glass of wine and your tears in my hand. XD
> 
> That being said, here is the new chapter~
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

Emerald Shell was not pleased.

He didn’t have to say a single word—Ladybug saw it in the stiff set of his shoulders, in the fold of his arms, in the suspicious glare he sent Chat Noir’s way. Disapproval hung heavy in the air, and she could tell that it was weighing heavily upon Chat, despite his carefully stoic expression as he returned Shell’s glare with an aloof stare. After a minute or two of this nonsense, Ladybug cleared her throat.

“Shell, this is Chat Noir. Chat, Emerald Shell.”

Neither the turtle-themed superhero nor the cat-themed superhero bothered to attempt to shake hands. When their positions and their expressions did not change, Ladybug heaved a sigh.

“Seriously, guys?”

“What? Did you expect me to be happy about this?” Shell questioned, shooting Ladybug an aggrieved look. “Am I supposed to be jumping for joy at the fact that the homicidal cat bastard came crawling back with his tail between his legs?”

“Shell!” Ladybug snapped, throwing a short glance Chat Noir’s way, seeing the way his jaw and hands flexed. Still, he said nothing, and Ladybug figured that, if she was going to do anything to diffuse the situation, it had to be now.

“One second,” she said to Chat before she grabbed hold of Shell’s shield, forcefully dragging him a couple rooftops away. Once she was sure they were out of Chat’s hearing range, Ladybug rounded on Shell, hands on her hips.

“ _Look,_ ” she began heatedly, “I know you’re not happy about this, Shell—”

“And yet you invited him back to the team anyway,” Shell pointed out, folding his arms as he scowled down at Ladybug. “Clearly, what I think doesn’t matter much when it comes to decisions like this.”

As much as Ladybug wanted to be angry about this accusation, in her heart of hearts, she really couldn’t fault Shell. Were she in his shoes, there would be no way she would be pleased about this situation, either.

Sighing, Ladybug pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment.

“I know you have misgivings,” she said to Shell as calmly as she could, dropping her hand to give him an earnest look. “But he saved my life, Shell.”

Shell shifted, appearing uncomfortable.

“He wouldn’t have had to step in if you had just told me where you were,” he grumbled; the subject was clearly still a sore spot with him. “And I still think it’s suspicious: don’t you think it was a little too convenient that he swooped in and saved you just in time?”

“His apology to me was heartfelt, Shell,” Ladybug assured him, reaching out to grip Shell’s arms, as if her touch would convince him. “I trust him. If it weren’t for him, I’d be dead. I owe him my life, and for that, I trust that he genuinely wants to help us.”

Shell’s frown didn’t grow any less stubborn, but he did shift his gaze away from Ladybug, over her head, most likely to where Chat stood waiting. The speculation in his eyes was enough for Ladybug to press her point.

“You don’t have to trust him right away. Just trust me, okay?”

At last, Shell’s shoulders slumped, and he gave Ladybug a defeated look.

“You don’t play fair, Dots,” he remarked, and Ladybug smiled in relief.

“Maybe not, but you love me anyway,” she pointed out, and Shell rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Together, they made their way back to their original rooftop, where Chat stood waiting, appearing as if he was expecting the axe to fall at any moment. Ladybug paced towards him, laying a careful hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she assured him in a low voice, “Shelly’s going to play a lot nicer now.”

Chat Noir cracked a small smirk, raising his gaze to Shell.

“Shelly, huh?”

Shell leveled him an unimpressed look.

“Yeah? You got something to say, Whiskers?”

Chat visibly twitched, his nose scrunching in distaste.

“I _do not_ have _whiskers._ ”

“Someone’s defensive.”

“Girls, you’re _both_ pretty,” Ladybug interjected with a huff and an annoyed look at her teammates. “Now will you _stop?_ Like it or not, you’re on the same side now, and I will _not_ have you bickering like children every chance you get. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Ma,” Shell replied, and Ladybug pointed a warning finger at his smirk.

“Keep your sass in your pocket, Shelly.” Flipping one of her pigtails over her shoulder, Ladybug continued. “So: patrol.”

“Patrol,” Emerald Shell and Chat Noir agreed, eyeing each other momentarily before they refocused on Ladybug, who supposed this was the best she was going to get out of them, for right now.

“Right…anyway, since there are now three of us, I figure we can divvy up the patrol like this…”

An hour later, Ladybug was winging her way through the streets of Paris, though admittedly, she was struggling to keep an eye out for trouble, her mind too absorbed with the new team dynamic she had suddenly foisted upon herself.

It was natural for her to want to welcome Chat back, after missing her partner since he’d gone rogue…but she had to concede that it was a long shot for Shell to automatically accept him as well. And it wasn’t like he didn’t have good points: Chat _was_ infamous to the public now, having incited a terrorist rebellion in the akuma-hating citizens, and he _had_ arrived just in time to save the day, after making quite an entrance and bluffing his way closer to Ladybug. His track record for the past few months wasn’t good at all…which made Ladybug wonder…was she letting her feelings for Chat blind her to any darker intentions he might have?

‘ _Of course not,_ ’ she stubbornly argued with herself, scowling as she swung, her movements automatic as she operated on auto-pilot. ‘ _I can tell when Chat’s lying to me. That hasn’t changed. He’s sincere. I know he is…_ ’

And yet, the concerned voice of Shell refused to leave her mind, questioning her convictions, challenging her assertions—

 _“_ Are _you in love with Chat Noir?”_

Ladybug snarled in annoyance, pausing to crouch on a rooftop, surveying the area with blind eyes as she inwardly stewed over the assumption. That was the second time she’d been accused of being in love with Chat—first by Adrien, then by Shell. Shelly had apologized for the assumption, of course, but it still annoyed her, like how her mother and Alya constantly pestered her about her not-relationship with Adrien. While it was true that things between her and Adrien were no longer platonic, she still stood by her assertion that a man and a woman could be friends _without_ there being romantic feelings involved. God, was the concept of a platonic relationship really so foreign to some people?

Ladybug blinked, startled to find herself at the Eiffel Tower already. How far gone was she in her own mind that she didn’t realize she was reaching the end of her patrol? And, if she squinted…it looked like a figure overhead had finished as well…

Smiling a little, Ladybug swung her way up to the top, landing lightly on the beam that Chat Noir sat upon, gazing out into the city.

“That was quick,” she greeted him, and Chat turned to her, something of a smile curving his lips.

“Well, sure, considering you gave me the shortest patrol route.” He watched her as she sat down beside him, his cat’s eyes knowing. “Wanted to keep me out of sight, hm?”

Ladybug cringed.

“Sorry. I just think it’s better this way, for now. No one knows you’re back yet…so it’s best to keep you out of the limelight, until we can hold a press conference or something to announce your return.”

Chat’s gaze returned to the city, his hands folded loosely in his lap. Ladybug watched him, taking in his profile, the strong, rugged line of his jaw, that messy blonde ponytail at the nape of his neck. She wanted to reach out and tug on it, tease him about needing a haircut…but she kept her hands to herself. It would take a while before she was comfortable with casually touching him again.

“People won’t be happy about an announcement like that,” Chat pointed out, and Ladybug watched as his cat ears flattened against his head. “No one will want to see me return.”

“That’s not true,” Ladybug protested, pausing when Chat gave her a doubtful look. “Well…okay, it’ll be hard. But I can’t believe that _no one_ will be happy about your return to the light side.”

“Half of Paris morphed into an ignorant, akuma victim blaming mob, and the other half would be glad to see the back of me,” Chat pointed out with a shake of his head and a sigh. “I can’t help but feel that my switching sides might make everything worse…maybe it would be easier to just disappear again and let you and Emerald Shell handle things—”

“ _Don’t,_ ” Ladybug protested, seizing his arm without thinking about it. Chat blinked, his eyes widening when Ladybug suddenly leaned in. He looked nervous, but she didn’t care—she let her eyes burn as she addressed him, just so he could see how serious she was. “I _will not_ let you vanish again, Chat. We’ve been apart for too long, and I _refuse_ to do this without you. I don’t care if I have to fight all of Paris over this—you are my _partner_ , and you _will_ help me fix this mess. Understand?”

Chat blinked again, blushing under her stare. She watched as he glanced away, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly.

“Ah…all right.” Clearing his throat, he gave her a slight smile, a trace of his usual roguish grin only just detectable. “I suppose I still have a hard time refusing you anything, My Lady.”

Ladybug gave him a dry look.

“Really? You didn’t seem to have too much trouble before this week.”

It was a low blow. Ladybug knew this, knew—as Marinette—what it cost him to oppose her, and she regretted the words as soon as Chat’s gaze lowered, to her hand on his arm. Realizing it was still there, she hastily drew back, but Chat still stared, his fingers twitching for a moment.

“…It _was_ hard,” he muttered after a moment, so quiet that the wind nearly stole the sound of his voice. “It was…like I was trying to split myself in two in the most painful way possible. I didn’t want to admit I was wrong, but I still _knew_ that I was, somewhere deep inside myself. But I still made the conscious decision to go against you…and I _knew_ I was hurting you, because I was hurting me, too.”

He lifted his gaze, and Ladybug was hurt to see the bewildered agony in his eyes as he stared at her, as if he could not believe she had decided to grace him with her presence.

“How do you not hate me for this?” He asked her, voice hushed, as if he feared she would realize that she _did_ hate him if he dared to speak the words louder. “How could you ever forgive me?”

Oh god. It _hurt._ Seeing Chat this way, speaking as if he was beyond redemption…it was torture, white-hot irons burning through Ladybug’s flesh, her body yanked across hot coals. He hated _himself_ for what he’d done, that much was obvious, and the fact that he seemed unable to comprehend why she would ever welcome him back…

The violence of her empathy was brutal, and it stole her breath; for a minute, she could only swallow around the lump in her throat, staring at him as she tried to find the words that would kill the self-loathing in his eyes. The longer she floundered, the stronger she could see it growing, and words forced their way out of her.

“Because I—”

She what?

Ladybug halted, realizing abruptly that she had nowhere plausible to go with that sentence. She swallowed again, raising a hand to rest against Chat’s face.

“Because we’re partners, _chaton._ No matter what, we’re always meant to be partners. So, though you strayed for a while…I think you were always meant to come back to me.” Ladybug smiled awkwardly at how that sounded and corrected herself. “Back to _us_.”

Chat said nothing, but he didn’t have to—the way his expression transformed from heartbreak into warmth and wonder said it all, as did the way his arm slid around her, drawing her into a hug she reciprocated after a surprised moment. He shook in her arms, just a little, a trembling kitten seeking reassurance. Ladybug rubbed his back and buried her face in his hair, sighing softly, the moment perfect—

And promptly ruined by the loud clearing of a throat nearby.

Ladybug and Chat Noir jumped apart, finding Emerald Shell a couple meters away, giving them a look so dry it was almost ironic, considering the theme of his Miraculous. Ladybug felt herself blush under what she felt was an accusing stare, and she hated it.

“Finished?” She asked casually, getting to her feet to assume her position of authority.

“Yeah,” Shell replied, stepping closer as he slid his shield onto his back, that dry look still in place. “But I’m beginning to think I was the only one patrolling. If you two wanted to be alone—”

“We just finished our patrols early,” Ladybug cut him off, shooting him a warning look. “That’s _all._ ”

“Whatever you say, Dots.”

Scowling, but choosing to let it go (for now), Ladybug waved him over and sat down again, in between her two teammates.

“Everything quiet?”

“Yep,” Shell confirmed, crossing his long legs under him and folding his hands in his lap. “I would’ve told you if we had trouble, y’know.”

“I’m just making sure.” Ladybug frowned in the distance, growing pensive. “It’s never a good thing when The Butterfly goes silent.”

“I think I prefer the silence,” Chat chimed in, his gaze flickering away from the city to rest on Ladybug. “You were almost killed when _Madame Araigne_ came out to play.”

Something in the way Chat looked at Shell must have been accusatory, for Shell scowled back at him.

“Again: you got something to say, Whiskers?”

“I _do not_ —”

“Shut up, both of you!” Ladybug snapped, and Shell and Chat fell silent, both eyeing her warily. Huffing, she glared at the pair of them. “Look, obviously this is going to take some adjustment time. But I told you already, I won’t stand for fighting within the team. From now on, we all have to be on the same page, so if you have something to say to each other, say it now, or shut your mouths.”

Ladybug folded her arms, shooting irritated glances between her two teammates, waiting.

It was Shell who broke the tense silence first.

“I don’t trust you,” he told Chat point blank, refusing to pull his punches as always. “I’m not gonna trust you for a really long time…but LB trusts you, and I trust her…and I owe you for saving her life when I couldn’t.” Shell briefly dropped his gaze, and Ladybug felt some of her irritation with him melt away; she had really scared him, hadn’t she? She’d talk with him more about it later.

“So, I don’t really like you, and I _still_ blame you for this whole mess—”

“Shelly—” Ladybug began, a warning in her voice, but he shot her an ‘I-have-a-point-to-make’ look, and so she remained silent, watching him carefully as he took a deep breath and spoke again, golden gaze fierce as he focused on Chat.

“…But if you’re actually serious about helping us fix what you’ve done…then I think I could come to trust you. Maybe.” His gaze hardened. “But if you screw LB over again, I’m gonna take my shield and bash your skull in, got it?”

Ladybug huffed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She supposed, in a way, that it was sweet that Emerald Shell would kill for her, but when it was Chat he was threatening—

There was a hand on her shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“It’s okay,” Chat assured her when she looked up, giving her a brief smile before he let his hand slide away from her. Clearing his throat, he focused on Shell with a solemn expression.

“I _am_ serious about fixing this,” he told Shell, conviction burning in his voice. “I was wrong. I know that, and though I do feel sorry for what I’ve done and what I’ve started, I know that apologies will only get me so far. So, while I’m not particularly fond of you, either…I recognize that you’ve been a big help to My Lady, and that you probably would have been there for her when Black Widow attacked if you could have. You seem to care about her a lot…so that’s enough for me.”

Shell blinked, staring at Chat. It was hard for Ladybug to decipher exactly what Shell was thinking as he watched Chat, but, unless it was a lot of wishful thinking on her part…she could almost swear that some of the hostility was leaving Shell’s gaze. Ladybug dared to tentatively hope that things would become a little smoother from then on.

“So?” She interjected when the silence had gone on for long enough, gesturing between the two of them. “Teammates?”

Catching her meaning, Chat extended a hand for Shell to shake. A beat of silence passed…and then Shell slowly reached out, gripping Chat’s hand for a firm shake. Ladybug sighed in relief, placing her hands over theirs and smiling at them.

“Then Team Miraculous is a go,” she announced proudly.

Shell snorted.

“Team Miraculous? That name sucks.”

“Excuse me? Let’s see you come up with something better, then,” Ladybug challenged him, miffed. Shell withdrew his hand, folding his arms and closing his eyes, a look of intense concentration crossing his features. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes and grinned.

“The Beetle Band,” he suggested, looking supremely proud of himself…until Ladybug burst into laughter.

“Ahahaha, _what?!_ That’s _terrible!_ ”

“It is not! It’s clever!” Shell protested with a scowl. Ladybug continued to snicker at him, however, and so he did something unexpected: he appealed to Chat. “What do you think? It fits, right?”

Chat blinked; it was clear he did not expect to have his opinion solicited. His gaze slid to Ladybug as he replied,

“I like Team Miraculous.”

“Oh sure, take her side,” Shell huffed as Ladybug poked her tongue out in victory at him.

“We could always take a vote,” she said smugly before abruptly sobering. “Later, though—there’s still some stuff I wanna talk to you two about.”

And just like that, the brief lighthearted mood that had settled over them was banished, and Shell and Chat focused on Ladybug as she stared out into the city, her hands clasped in her lap.

“My encounter with Black Widow taught me something,” she said, her hands briefly tightening; the tension in her body eased as both Shell and Chat laid a hand on her shoulder in support. “The Butterfly, whoever they are…they aren’t interested in our Miraculous at all.” She glanced between her teammates, the severity of the situation weighing heavily upon her. “They want us dead.”

The silence grew thicker with tension as the three heroes exchanged glances.

“…That’s a little extreme,” Chat said after a moment, the lighthearted reply offset by his serious expression. “Hawk Moth was horrible, but he never seemed to want us _dead._ ”

“That you know of,” Shell pointed out with a frown. “Did we ever really find out what Hawk Moth was after, in the end?”

“No,” Ladybug replied regretfully with a shake of her head. “Whatever goal he was working towards, it died with him.”

Silence fell once again as the heroes each lost themselves in their own thoughts.

Again, Shell was the one to stir the quiet.

“…There _is_ one other person we might be able to ask…y’know, about whatever Hawk Moth’s end game was…”

Ladybug glanced at him, taking in his uncomfortable expression with confusion.

“Who are you…” As she studied his grimace, Ladybug abruptly realized who he meant, and her mouth opened in outrage.

“ _No,_ ” she protested, glaring at Shell even as he raised his hands in surrender. “Absolutely _not._ ”

“I know, I don’t like it, either,” he assured her, rubbing the back of his hooded head. “And it’s a long shot, probably…but if he knows something—”

“We are _not_ bringing Adrien into this,” Ladybug cut across him, narrowing her eyes. “That’s _final_ , Shell.”

“You think Adrien Agreste knows something?” Chat inquired, his tone oddly careful.

“No,” Ladybug replied at the same time Shell said “Maybe”. She glared at him, and he raised his hands again, as if he expected her to lunge and attack him.

“Look, LB, all I’m saying is that he might’ve found something out. Hawk Moth might’ve been a bastard, but he _was_ his dad.”

“We’re not bothering Adrien with this,” Ladybug asserted, “he’s been through enough already. And what Hawk Moth may or may not have had planned doesn’t matter in our situation, so drop it, Shelly.”

“How do you know it doesn’t?” Shell persisted in challenging her anyway, and Ladybug growled in frustration. “We know virtually _nothing_ about The Butterfly, LB. What if the dude’s carrying out Hawk Moth’s final wishes or something?”

Ladybug attempted to fight past her irritation to consider Shell’s words. As tempted as she was to think that Hawk Moth and The Butterfly had nothing to do with each other, according to Chat, whoever— _what_ ever—had stolen the Butterfly Miraculous from him seemed to know what they were doing. Which meant that whoever had stolen it had to know that Chat had it…which meant they somehow knew more than she had thought possible—

Chat’s voice was next to cut through Ladybug’s concentration:

“You…don’t think Adrien Agreste could be the Butterfly, do you?”

“NO!” Ladybug and Emerald Shell protested at the same time, apparently looking so fierce that Chat reeled back, blinking in surprise at the pair of them. Ladybug had to consciously remind herself to calm down; as she was taking deep breaths, Shell voiced her thoughts.

“Just because his dad was a bastard doesn’t mean Adrien followed in his footsteps,” Shell asserted, and Ladybug nodded her agreement.

“Exactly. Where we come from doesn’t define who we are, Chat,” she scolded him, watching as he flushed, apparently embarrassed.

“It was just a stray thought,” he said quietly, glancing away. Abruptly feeling bad for her strong reaction, Ladybug sighed and patted Chat’s shoulder to assure him everything was fine. She couldn’t fault him for the assumption, of course—it wasn’t like _he_ knew Adrien the way she and Shell did.

“But since we’re basically blind to all things Butterfly, I still think it might be a good idea to talk to him,” Shell said, stubborn as anything. As Ladybug got up, stepping over him to pace away so she wouldn’t hit him, Shell’s voice followed her. “C’mon, LB: you know he’d tell _you_ anything.”

“…Do you two know Adrien?” Chat inquired, gaze flickering between the pair of them, suddenly intense. Ladybug shot Shell an annoyed look for putting her in a situation where she would have to lie to Chat, and the slight grimace he gave her told her that he registered that he was now in trouble.

“Not exactly,” she answered Chat, speaking strictly from Ladybug’s point of view here, if only to ease the burden of guilt her conscience would be settling on her later. “I’ve met him a few times…but I don’t really know him all that well.”

Shell gave a slightly stiff shrug.

“I only know that he used to have a thing for LB,” he chose to answer, and Ladybug had to fiercely smother the urge to hit him over the head with his own shield. “I never actually talked to the dude, of course, but it was kind of super obvious to anyone who was looking—”

A blushing Ladybug slapped a hand over Shell’s mouth, leaning over him and baring her teeth.

“One more word, and I’ll fling you off this tower _without_ your hover board,” she threatened him. Shell’s eyes widened, and he raised his hands in surrender once more, signaling that he would behave himself. Ladybug consented to let him go…but she was still annoyed, so she swatted the back of his head, causing him to cringe forward, rubbing the spot where she hit him.

“Ouch! Damn, LB, chill. I was just kidding.”

“Get a new sense of humor,” Ladybug ordered, folding her arms. “No more Adrien talk, get it?”

“Got it,” Shell replied, still rubbing the back of his head.

“Good.” Breathing deeply in the hopes of exhaling the remnants of her temper, Ladybug glanced over to Chat, finding her partner giving her and Shell the oddest look: it was somehow split three ways, in between amusement, loneliness, and just a touch of jealousy. Abruptly, Ladybug realized that, though Chat had finally come back, her dynamic with him would never be the same, now that Shell was around. She wondered if that upset him; admittedly, though she was more than grateful to have Shell on the team, the thought made her a little sad as well.

“Anyway,” she forcefully changed the subject, for the Adrien debate had gone on for far too long, “we should really exchange information. You haven’t really been around for all the stuff that’s happened lately, Chat.”

“I’m sorry,” Chat apologized immediately, and Ladybug smiled.

“I wasn’t scolding you; just stating facts.” Stepping over Shell once again, she settled down in between them once more, a concentrated frown puckering her brow and pursing her lips. “On top of the screaming akuma, we’ve learned that the Butterfly somehow has the ability to create dummy akumas—when fighting King Arthur and his soldiers, I tried capturing an akuma from Paladin…only to have it shatter, as if it was a shell of the akuma rather than the real thing.”

“Ugh. That was creepy,” Shell chimed in with a shudder. “Thing flaked and crumbled, like dead skin.”

Chat frowned at this, gripping his chin in thought.

“We’ve never seen that before, either.”

“Nope. Which means we have to be extra cautious when fighting the akumatized victims.” Ladybug gave the other two anxious looks. “Trying to capture a fake akuma could be bad for us, now that we know The Butterfly wants to destroy us.”

“But we won’t know it’s fake until you try to capture it,” Shell pointed out, and Ladybug huffed in frustration.

“I know. That’s a problem, too, but until we figure out how to tell the true akuma from a dummy, we’ll just have to be as careful as we can be when facing off against akumatized victims.”

“And hurting them _isn’t_ an option,” Shell said pointedly, ignoring the withering look Ladybug sent him as he scowled in Chat Noir’s direction. Chat, however, instead of the shameless attitude he’d given Ladybug when she brought up the same point in the past, sighed and let his shoulders slump, his ears flattening against his head.

“I know,” he replied, looking appropriately ashamed. Shell continued to eye him suspiciously, and it was only the beeping from Ladybug’s Miraculous, followed closely by Chat’s, that made him stop.

“Time to go,” Shell announced, getting to his feet. Ladybug frowned at this.

“We still have _some_ time,” she said, with a half-glance at Chat Noir. He returned her gaze, and Ladybug knew without asking that he didn’t want to part from her company just yet, either.

Shell wasn’t having it, however; he crouched down, frowning at Ladybug.

“Look, you two can talk or whatever later,” he said, annoying Ladybug with the implication of his tone. “But I don’t think it’s smart to wait for you to lose your transformation on top of the Eiffel Tower. You guys can hang out later, preferably on the ground, and preferably when you’re not about to change out of your magical, death defying super suits.”

Ladybug stared at him in disbelief.

“What are you, my father?”

“No, but I doubt he’d approve, either.” Shell’s expression grew more stubborn when Ladybug’s Miraculous gave another warning chirp. “Let’s _go,_ LB.”

Ladybug was two seconds away from reminding Shell that he was not the boss around here and to butt out when Chat Noir stood as well, the movement catching Ladybug’s attention immediately.

“He’s right,” Chat said, glancing away from the pair of them. “It’s not like we won’t see each other again.”

“There, you see? Even Whiskers says so.”

“…You’re not gonna let that go, are you?”

“Don’t count on it.”

“But Chat…” Ladybug began, gazing up at him. She wanted to say something to make him stay…but again, she found that the words were nowhere to be found. There was just a quiet, intense yearning to be near him, burning somewhere within her…but Ladybug couldn’t say that out loud. It would sound weird if she expressed such a heartfelt desire out loud…

Chat inspected her for a moment…and then he leaned over, offering his hand. Ladybug took it automatically, and he pulled her to her feet, the action bringing them closer together. Chat dropped her hand as soon as she was standing, a slight smile curving his lips and softening his eyes.

“I’ll see you soon, My Lady,” he promised her. Ladybug believed him, of course, but it was a promise that made her stomach churn: exactly _how_ soon was ‘soon’?

There was another pointed cough behind her.

“Still here, guys.”

Ladybug closed her eyes, prayed for patience, and gave Chat a nod.

“Soon,” she repeated, and Chat’s smile grew. Reluctantly turning away from him, Ladybug unhooked her yo-yo from her hip, sidestepping Shell with a swat to his chest. “Let’s go.”

Together, she and Emerald Shell took off into the night, Ladybug glancing back once to watch Chat streak off in the opposite direction, his baton glinting in the city lights. Ladybug and Shell waited until they were a good distance away before they de-transformed, casually strolling out of the underground metro entrance a minute after entering.

“You know I’m mad at you, right?” Marinette wasted no time in letting Nino know, sending him a frown. Nino adjusted his glasses, meeting her gaze with his eyebrows slightly raised.

“I know,” he answered, sounding both regretful and defiant. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be spending too much time alone with Chat Noir.”

“That wasn’t what I was talking about…but as a matter of fact, _that’s_ none of your business, either,” Marinette made sure to tell him. “Chat and I are partners—”

“—Partners who only _recently_ became partners again after a long stint of the cat bastard being a complete _asshole_ to you and threatening innocent lives,” Nino interrupted, stopping to frown at Marinette, folding his arms. “I’m trying to trust your judgment on this, ‘Nette, believe me. But the more I see you two interact, the more I’m worried that you’re not thinking clearly.”

“I’m thinking just _fine,_ thank you,” Marinette snapped at him, her hands going to her hips as she scowled up at him. “I swear, Nino, if you accuse me of being in love with Chat Noir again—”

“I wasn’t about to, but you’re protesting an awful lot about it,” Nino noted. Marinette felt herself flush red, and she hated it, so she turned on her heel, resolutely marching away from Nino. It was a moment before he followed after her, his long legs helping him catch up in seconds.

“Look, Marinette, I’m not trying to be a jerk. I’m honestly worried.” When Marinette did not pause in her irritated strut, Nino reached out, a hand on her shoulder, pulling her to a stop. Marinette consented to look at him, taking in the anxious furrow of his brow and his earnest gaze. “You’ve never known what it’s like to be akumatized. You’ve never known the fear and the confusion that came after the fact, of not remembering what you’ve been up to for half the day…only to have people _tell_ you that you became a public menace, that you’ve hurt people.”

The shadow that Marinette saw occasionally darken Alya’s gaze when she talked of akumatized victims now invaded Nino’s eyes, haunting his expression.

“Imagine having people _hate_ you for something you had no control over. Imagine someone you once thought was a hero turn his back on you and condemn you for being used in a psychopath’s quest for magic jewelry, or world domination or whatever. Imagine finally, _finally_ gaining the power to do something about it, to fight back…only to have your other hero welcome back the threat you were fighting against the minute he changes his tune.”

Nino’s grip on Marinette’s shoulder tightened, as did his gaze.

“Imagine that hero being one of your best friends, one of the best people you know, who you’d _hate_ to see hurt again, all because she was a little too forgiving and put her faith in the wrong person.”

…Ugh. And he accused _her_ of not playing fair…

Marinette heaved a sigh, feeling her anger melt away, despite her attempts to cling to it. How _could_ she be angry, with Nino regarding her with such sincere and profound concern? She could be annoyed with him all she wanted, but it didn’t change the fact that Nino was being so difficult because he cared about her. It was annoying, but…

“I understand,” she said after a moment, smirking when relief overtook Nino’s features. “If you feel so strongly about it…I won’t spend more time with Chat Noir than strictly necessary. Okay?”

“Yes. Thanks, ‘Nette.”

They resumed their walk in companionable silence for a while…that is, until another one of Marinette’s grievances came back to her, and she frowned at Nino from the corner of her eye.

“You don’t _really_ think Adrien knows anything, do you?”

Nino frowned, scratching at the scruff on his chin.

“I think he might. And I think he might tell Ladybug what he knew…” At Marinette’s accusing stare, Nino cringed and confessed, “…but I might’ve kept talking about him just so Chat Noir knows you’re taken.”

“Oh my _god_ , Nino.”

“Look, you may not see the way he looks at you, but I do. Dude’s got it bad.”

“Chat cares about me because we’re _partners,_ ” Marinette emphasized, stubbornly ignoring the blush rising in her face and flushing down her neck. “Besides, Adrien and I aren’t—well, anyway, you shouldn’t be implying that he’s seeing _Ladybug_. How would you like it if I started shouting to the world that Emerald Shell is engaged to the Ladyblog moderator?”

Nino grinned.

“Trust me, I’d be bragging myself if it didn’t mean putting her in danger.”

Marinette sighed, supposing that she walked right into that; Nino and Alya could give her and Adrien crap all they wanted, but they were sickeningly sweet in their own right as well.

“The point is,” she pressed with a nudge to his ribs, “we should be more careful about how we act around Chat. Just because we know each other in real life doesn’t mean he has to know that. And we _definitely_ shouldn’t be implying that we know the son of deceased supervillains, all right?”

“Gotcha,” Nino agreed, cringing as he rubbed his side. “That was my bad. I’ll be more careful in the future.”

“Thank you.” Marinette paused, folding her arms for warmth as the winter chill set in, now that her anger had faded. Ugh, she could not _wait_ for spring.

As they crossed to Marinette’s street, she glanced over, abruptly realizing that Nino was still with her…that was different…

“…Any particular reason you’re escorting me home, Nino?”

Nino glanced away, his expression a little too casual as he shrugged.

“I just happened to be going this way.”

“You live in the opposite direction.”

Nino frowned down at her as they reached the stairs leading up to her apartment.

“Sue me for wanting to make sure my friend who almost _died_ earlier this week gets home safely,” he grumped after a moment. Marinette blinked, the confession unexpected…and all the more heartfelt because of it. Smiling a little, Marinette stepped forward, giving Nino a tight hug that he returned.

“Thank you. But I’m fine, promise,” she assured him, pulling back to grin up at him. “So go home, okay? I know you miss your fiancée.”

“Ah, my beautiful goddess of a fiancée,” Nino sighed, and Marinette giggled at the exaggerated way he clutched at his heart, certain that Alya would roll her eyes at such a display while secretly being pleased over being referred to as a goddess. Checking his watch, Nino mumbled, “I wonder if she’s still awake…”

“Only one way to find out,” Marinette reminded him, shooing him away. “Either way, you should go home and get some rest. I’ll see you later.”

“Night, ‘Nette.” Nino frowned at her as he began to walk away, his gaze concerned once more. “Get some sleep, all right? You look tired.”

“I’m fine,” Marinette insisted, taking the stairs two at a time as she waved to him while stubbornly ignoring the fact that she had not exactly been sleeping well since the events of Monday night... “Night, Nino.”

After he left, Marinette let herself into her apartment, heading for the kitchen for a late night snack for Tikki. The telltale rip of cellophane alerted her kwami, who flew out of Marinette’s muffler and gratefully accepted the cookie Marinette offered her, munching happily as Marinette leaned against the kitchen counter, watching her for a moment.

“Do you think I’m being too trusting?” Marinette asked once Tikki had managed to get through three-fourths of her cookie. Tikki lowered the last bit, looking thoughtful as she gazed up at Marinette.

“Are you worried?”

“Well…I wasn’t until Nino said something,” she admitted, biting her lip. “And it’s not like I don’t trust Nino’s judgment…but at the same time…he doesn’t _know_ Chat like I do.” Marinette frowned. “Or, like I think I do, anyway…”

Nino was never one to sweat anything but the big stuff, though: if he was worried, then it was safe to assume that it would be unwise to just sweep his opinion to the side. But Marinette kept going back and forward in her mind, trying to decide if his concerns were unfounded, or justified. Could she keep trusting Chat Noir, in full awareness of the choices he’d made of his own free will? Wasn’t his apology enough? Even if the whole of Paris railed against his return to Ladybug’s side…could she still stand by him? _Should_ she?

Marinette glanced over to Tikki for help, but unfortunately, the kwami could only shake her head.

“I can’t tell you who to trust, Marinette,” she told her, swallowing the last bite of her cookie before she continued. “You and Chat Noir _are_ meant to be partners…but it only works if both of you are willing to work together. If you’re unsure of whether or not you’re on the same page…it’s something you need to sit down and discuss with him.”

“Ugh. I guess so…but when?” Marinette wanted to know, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I just promised Nino that I wouldn’t be alone with him longer than necessary, so what—”

There was the distinct sound of a ‘thump’ from upstairs.

Marinette and Tikki looked to the ceiling, and then at each other.

“Uh…Ladybug time?” Tikki suggested as Marinette stared intently at the ceiling.

“…Not yet,” she said, lowering her voice and waving Tikki forward to hide in her muffler once again. “It might’ve just been my sewing dummy falling over…”

…Because it was knocked over by a robber. Marinette swallowed, but steeled herself as she approached the stairs, balancing her weight so that the wood didn’t make noise as she carefully climbed up. The door upstairs was closed, just as she had left it. Marinette pressed her ear to the door and listened intently for a few moments…

Nothing.

Marinette frowned. Was it just the sound of a tree branch hitting the front of the apartment or something? She knew she hadn’t imagined the noise, since Tikki heard it, too, but still…

Cautiously, Marinette turned the door handle, easing the door open oh so gently, one eye peeking in at the surroundings.

A crack in her curtains allowed the light from the streetlamps outside to filter into the room, but other than that, it was mostly dark. Nothing seemed out of place—her dummies where they were supposed to be, her drawers didn’t look like they had been ransacked…everything looked fine.

So why did Marinette get the feeling that she was being watched…?

Marinette pushed her door open fully, staring around into her room for a few seconds. She saw nothing lurking in the shadows…but that didn’t mean nothing was there…or was she just being paranoid…?

When nothing moved for another minute, Marinette sighed. She thought she had gotten rid of the ‘living alone’ jitters a long time ago after being on her own for three years…but it seemed that she still got nervous when things went bump in the night. Shaking her head at herself, Marinette stepped into her room, her hand feeling along the wall for the light switch—

Something shifted in the corner of her eye. Marinette turned—

A pair of glowing yellow eyes locked gazes with her, and Marinette jumped, falling back against the wall. From out of the shadows _came_ a shadow-like _something_ , its shape indistinguishable due to the darkness of the room. As Marinette stood there, wide-eyed and frozen, it seemed to glide towards her, a soft sound emanating from it, like a sort of hissing sound…or was it the sound of _whatever it was_ sliding across the floor? What the hell _was_ it?!

“Marinette!” Tikki squeaked, tugging on a strand of Marinette’s hair after she’d peeked out of Marinette’s muffler and assessed the situation, “Marinette, focus! You have to transform! Marinette!!”

Tikki’s voice came from a very far place, as if she were oceans away instead of just centimeters. Marinette couldn’t focus, couldn’t think—those glowing yellow eyes had her ensnared, the soft hissing growing louder as the shadow thing came closer, closer, growing larger and larger with each second until it towered over Marinette, monstrous and threatening, ready to strike—

There was a tapping sound at her balcony doors. The shadow thing broke gazes with her, turning to hiss at the intruding noise. Once they broke eye contact, Marinette’s head cleared, and she did the only thing that seemed plausible at the moment: she slammed her hand against the light switch.

Light suddenly flooded the room, and the shadow thing gave an angry cry, dispersing before Marinette could get a good look at it, leaving only her heart slamming against her rib cage and the sweat trickling down her back as proof it ever existed. Her hands were shaking, she realized, and she clenched them over the top of her muffler as Tikki slipped free of it, her wide indigo eyes echoing Marinette’s inner panic.

“T-Tikki…what was—”

“I…I don’t know,” Tikki admitted in a hushed whisper, looking just as alarmed as Marinette felt. “I don’t know, Marinette…”

The tapping at her doors came again, and Marinette jumped, eyes going to the balcony doors. Her adrenaline spiked, and anger flashed through her, overwhelming her fear. She had had _quite_ enough of surprises for one night!

Gesturing for Tikki to hide while grabbing the baseball bat she had bought when she first moved in to “discourage” any unwanted visitors, Marinette slowly approached her balcony doors, pausing only to take a deep breath before she ripped the curtain back, her bat raised and at the ready, though the doors were still closed—

Chat Noir blinked in surprise, his friendly smile dropping as he spied the weapon. Carefully, he raised his hands, a sheepish cringe crossing his features.

“Bad time?” He asked through the glass.

Marinette stared at him, unconsciously lowering the bat. She had never been so happy to see him; it felt like her knees would give way in relief.

Shakily, she undid the lock on her doors and pushed them open, stepping outside.

“Chat Noir…”

“That’s me,” Chat joked with a roguish grin. “Sorry to call so late, Princess, but I…hey, are you okay?” He asked, interrupting whatever monologue he was about to deliver to peer at her worriedly. “You’re shaking…”

Marinette hid her shaking hands behind her back, dropping the bat in the process…but there wasn’t much she could do to hide the rest of her trembling frame. She had to admit it—whatever that _thing_ was had scared the bejesus out of her, and it wasn’t because she was afraid of the dark.

No, she was afraid of losing control, and of the unknown…and that _thing_ had been both of her worst nightmares all wrapped up in a horrifying package, just waiting for her to stumble upon it, unaware.

Marinette opened her mouth, searching for the words to articulate what had just happened…but the longer she peered into Chat’s worried gaze, the harder it became to voice the unknown, until finally…

“I’m okay,” Marinette forced herself to lie, giving Chat a shaky smile. “Y-you just surprised me is all…I didn’t expect you to visit…”

“Ah…I’m sorry, Princess,” Chat apologized humbly, rubbing the back of his head. “I can go if you wa—”

“No!” Marinette protested, a little too loudly. At Chat’s startled look, she forced herself to take a deep breath, cringing in apology. “Sorry…I just meant…I don’t mind your visits. It’s been a while since I last saw you…”

“Well, you told me not to make it a habit,” Chat reminded her, tilting his head to the side and frowning as Marinette forced a laugh. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Fine,” Marinette lied again, stepping quickly away from her room and further into the night air, the chill cooling the sweat on her face and making her shiver…yes, it was the cold that was making her shiver…just the cold…

Folding her arms against herself as she leaned against her balcony railing, Marinette turned to give Chat a curious look from the corner of her eye.

“What brings you by, Chat Noir? Do you need more advice or something?”

“Ah…actually, no,” Chat replied, pacing forward. He hopped up on the railing next to Marinette, giving her a pleased grin. “I come bearing good news: I went back to Ladybug.”

“That’s wonderful, Chat,” Marinette enthused, working to make her smile genuine as she patted his clawed hand. “I’m proud of you. And I’m sure Ladybug is happy to have you back, too.”

“Ah, yes…My Lady was more forgiving than I expected,” Chat said with a shake of his head and a helpless smile. “Too forgiving, in fact…but I guess that’s why she has Shelly now.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow. So even Chat thought she was too forgiving, hm? His guilt was stronger than she thought…

“Shelly?”

“Emerald Shell,” Chat corrected himself with a grin. “My Lady calls him Shelly for short…and it stuck.”

“Cute,” Marinette giggled.

“He doesn’t think so. But the way I see it, if he’s gonna call me ‘Whiskers’…”

“But you don’t have whiskers,” Marinette pointed out, and Chat threw his hands up in the air, nearly losing his balance before catching himself at the last minute.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Marinette bit her lip to hide her amusement as Chat huffed, rubbing the back of his head again as he stared off into the distance. “But he’s a stubborn one. I get the feeling he and Ladybug know each other out of costume, too…” Chat frowned thoughtfully for a moment, sending Marinette’s heart rate up…but then he shook his head in dismissal over whatever thoughts he was thinking. “But I suppose it’s just how close they seem to be that has me jealous…"

“Jealous?”

Chat shrugged, looking a little embarrassed.

“Yeah, a bit. For so long, it had been My Lady and me, fighting crime, cracking one-liners, saving the day…” He sighed heavily, dropping his gaze to his lap. “But I suppose it was foolish to think that she wouldn’t find someone else to help her after I…well. In any case, Shelly seems to be an excellent hero…who doesn’t like me very much. But that’s fine. I don’t really like me very much, either.”

The casual way he said such a self-depreciating sentence hit Marinette hard, and she found her hand covering his once again, giving it a squeeze.

“Well, I think you’re great,” she said firmly, watching as Chat’s face turned red. “Ladybug must think so, too, since she welcomed you back.”

Chat stared at her, giving her a little smile after a moment.

“You know, you remind me a little of her,” he confessed, and Marinette willed herself not to lose her head over such an innocent sentence, “you both put too much faith in me.”

“I put exactly the right amount of faith in you, thank you very much,” Marinette sniffed, and Chat grinned at her. “And I’m sure Ladybug feels the same way.”

“Well, My Lady _is_ amazing,” Chat conceded, his gaze growing distant as he spoke of Ladybug. Something about the look was familiar, Marinette realized, and she frowned, trying to pinpoint where this déjà vu was coming from—

_“Look, you may not see the way he looks at you, but I do. Dude’s got it bad.”_

Marinette’s eyes widened as Nino’s voice intruded upon her thoughts, and she abruptly pinpointed the look: it was longing.

Oh no.

“You’re not in love with Ladybug, are you?” She blurted out before she could stop herself. Chat’s gaze returned to her, surprised one second, then embarrassed the next, his cheeks turning rosy. Marinette could only gape at him, the nonverbal confession staring her in the face. She…she couldn’t believe it. Sure, he had always flirted with her in the past, and she had always indulged him, but she thought it was just playful banter exchanged between partners. She never thought he was actually _serious_ —

“Ah…no, Princess,” Chat said quietly, and something odd happened in Marinette’s chest; her heart was already overworked from the events of tonight, but after it sped up during her revelation, his negation of her assumption both relieved her…and brought her down. What was this? It was _good_ that Chat Noir wasn’t in love with her, with Ladybug. They had just become partners again; something as complicated as _feelings_ should not be brought into the mix, when they were still figuring things out, still readjusting and getting used to each other again—

So why? _Why_ was Marinette _disappointed_?

“…I admit, I… _did_ harbor such feelings for Ladybug, once,” he admitted after a silent moment, and Marinette was forcefully yanked out of her confused reeling to focus back on him, taking in the slump of his shoulders and his embarrassed expression as he kicked one foot a little, lips twisting in a frown. “But I’m getting over it. I love Ladybug…but I’m not _in_ love with her. Not anymore.”

Abruptly, his eyes flashed to Marinette, and she straightened without fully knowing why.

“But that’s for your ears only, Princess,” he suddenly teased. “Don’t go spreading that around…especially not to nosy journalist friends, all right?”

Marinette thought of what Alya might do with such information and cringed.

“Your secret’s safe with me,” she swore, smiling in reassurance while her mind inwardly whirled with intense confusion. Oblivious to her inner dilemma, Chat nodded, smiling at her.

“I knew you were trustworthy, Princess. That’s why I wanted to come see you: to let you know that everything’s fine…well, not fine, but better.” He raised a clawed finger to his lips. “So do me a favor and don’t go shouting about my reunion with Ladybug, okay? We’re not telling the public yet, for obvious reasons…but I know you’ve been worried, so…”

Marinette smiled a little.

“And what will Ladybug think if she knows you’re telling a complete stranger all of your superhero business?”

“‘Complete stranger’?” Chat questioned, laying a hand over his heart while giving her an exaggerated pout. “Princess, you _wound_ me. Aren’t we friends?”

Marinette laughed, shaking her head a little. ‘Friends’, huh…

“I guess we are,” she agreed, sliding Chat a side glance. “Though not many of my friends make a habit of sneaking around my balcony in a cat suit.”

“I do _not_ make it a habit,” Chat reminded her, waggling a finger at her. “But in any case, it sounds like your friends are no fun if sneaking around in a cat suit isn’t their idea of a good time.”

Marinette snorted. He was so ridiculous.

The beeping of his Miraculous alerted them both to the fact that their time together was running out, and Chat gave her a wry smile.

“Well, _Purr_ incess, I hate to say it, but I must bid you _adieu._ All princesses and cats need their beauty sleep, don’t you think?”

“You certainly think a lot of yourself,” Marinette teased, and Chat gave her a wink as he carefully turned on the balcony railing, extending his staff. Before he could climb on, however, Marinette stayed him by calling his name.

“Chat?”

“Princess?” Chat returned, turning to give her a curious look. Marinette bit her lip, staring at him. She shouldn’t ask. She shouldn’t even _think_ about asking. But—

“When…” She halted, but Chat tilted his head curiously, indicating that she should continue. Inhaling deeply, Marinette tried again. “When, exactly, did you…fall in love with Ladybug?”

Chat blushed again, staring at her. Marinette could feel her face heat as well, and she hastily tore her gaze from him, staring out into the night without seeing.

“I’m just…curious…” she mumbled through her embarrassment. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to—”

“It’s all right,” Chat assured her softly, and Marinette found the courage to look at him again. When their eyes met, he winked. “After all, I know a thing or two about curiosity…”

He shifted on the balcony, folding his hands over the top of his extended staff and resting his chin on them, gazing up at the dark sky as Marinette watched him, taking in every twitch in his expression as he chewed over her question.

“…It’s hard to give you a definite answer, admittedly,” he said, giving a slight shrug. “It feels like I’ve always loved her—she just dropped from the sky one day and into my life. Literally.”

Marinette laughed a little, remembering.

“That must’ve been a surprise.”

“Maybe, but it was a pleasant one,” Chat recalled fondly, a smile spreading across his face. “But I think I realized I loved her a little later than that—we were facing off against, uh, Stoneheart, and he had taken a civilian captive. The police were trying to get involved, and though Ladybug tried to talk them down, they had lost faith in her, all because we screwed up the first time. Looking back, they really should’ve cut us more slack; it was our first time, of _course_ we were bound to make mistakes.” Chat shook his head at the remembered injustice before he continued. “The harsh words of Officer Raincomprix demoralized Ladybug…she started doubting herself, blaming herself for a mistake we both made…and it _hurt._ To see a girl with so much power and potential feel like she was useless…”

In her mind’s eye, Marinette revisited the memory, but now it was colored with Chat’s point of view, his concern and care for her taking the forefront of her mind. The way he gripped her shoulders and willed her not to give up, promising that they would prove to everyone that they were the heroes they deserved…the words meant more to Ladybug than she had ever properly expressed to him…why hadn’t she told him when she’d had the chance…?

“Anyway, I made sure she knew she wasn’t alone in the fight—this was my mistake too, and I wouldn’t let her shoulder the blame alone. I knew she had what it took to prove the police wrong…and boy, did she.” Chat chuckled. “As soon as that moth projection of the bad guy appeared, she handled it like a boss, purifying all of the akuma, shutting up Hawk Moth, and inspiring all the citizens of Paris to trust their new superheroes.” Chat turned to grin at Marinette, pointing a clawed finger to his chest. “It was like a kill shot to the heart. And I knew that girl, whoever she was, in or out of the mask…I knew that I loved her.”

_Oh no._

The furnace-like heat in Marinette’s face indicated that she was blushing from her hairline to her neck, and she _hated_ it. She pulled her gaze away from Chat once again, biting her lip, tears stinging her eyes.

All this time…all this time, and he had _never_ told her.

Their whole partnership, she had believed his flirting was just him being Chat Noir, that he flirted with _every_ girl he met. How was she to know about the feelings burning just underneath the surface? How could she have guessed that it wasn’t just a game when Chat only ever treated it like one?

_How could he not have told her?!_

“Princess?”

There was a finger on her cheek, brushing away the tear that had escaped her eye.

“Why are you crying?” Chat wanted to know, concern in his tone as Marinette hurriedly lifted her muffler to banish the accursed tears from existence. Taking a shaky breath, she said from behind her muffler.

“I’m sorry…it’s just…so romantic…”

Chat laughed awkwardly, fingers plucking at the muffler.

“Please don’t cry, Princess. You know this story doesn’t have a happy ending.”

Oh. Right. He…he had moved on already, hadn’t he…?

His Miraculous gave another beep, and panic seized Marinette’s heart. She dropped her muffler, gripping his arm, though he showed no intention of leaving. He gave her a surprised look, and she swallowed, slowly prizing her fingers from his arm.

“W-why…I mean, when did you…”

When Marinette failed to finish her sentence, Chat gave her a wry look.

“When did I decide to move on?” He guessed. When Marinette merely nodded, he gave another shrug that was almost casual. “Just recently. It was long overdue, but a part of me couldn’t help but hold out hope…”

He smiled a wistful smile that would have _ended_ Marinette, if looks could kill.

“But it was time for me to stop dreaming. I already knew she wasn’t interested, and I had to stop fooling myself into thinking she might be one day, or I’d go insane. And besides, my behavior over the past few months made me ineligible for her love, anyway.”

“You don’t know that,” Marinette protested softly, and Chat’s wistful smile grew as he shook his head.

“Ah, but I do, Princess. She might have forgiven me for everything I’ve done…but it’ll be a long time before I forgive myself, personally.” With a sigh, Chat’s smile eased into something more cheerful. “So, that’s my story. Pathetic, am I not?”

So quick to put himself down…

Marinette gripped his arm again, giving it a firm squeeze as she met his gaze unflinchingly.

“You’re not pathetic. You’re wonderful,” she corrected emphatically. Chat’s eyes widened, and despite his blush, he managed to grin his roguish grin at her.

“Are you flirting with me, Princess?” He teased. The jest made Marinette blush, and she bit her lip, denials on the tip of her tongue—

But a denial was not what she ended up giving.

“And if I am?” She challenged, quirking a brow that was braver than she felt. Her recklessness was rewarded, however, when Chat’s grin dropped, and he promptly blushed redder than her.

“Ah,” he said, blinking owlishly at her for a moment. He glanced away, rubbing the back of his head. “Er, well…I gotta say, I’m flattered, Princess…but I’m kind of…seeing someone.”

Marinette felt her heart drop all the way to the bottom of her stomach.

“Oh,” was all she could think to say, and hastily, she removed her hand from his arm when she remembered that, technically, _she was seeing someone too, what was_ wrong _with her?!_

Clearing her throat, Marinette resolved to clear the awkward air between them.

“Lucky girl. She must be a big fan of cats.”

Chat laughed at that.

“No, not really. But that doesn’t matter, since she doesn’t know I’m Chat Noir.”

“Oh?” Marinette asked, tilting her head at him. “And what would she think of you skulking around my bedroom this late at night?”

Chat eyed her from his peripheral vision. There was something strange about his gaze; it was amused, but quietly so, like there was some joke Marinette was missing.

“…Somehow, I don’t think she’d mind very much,” Chat replied, laughing at the confused look Marinette shot him. The beeping from his Miraculous grew more insistent, and Chat sighed, hopping onto his staff. “It’s been a pleasure as always, Princess. Have a good night.”

‘ _Wait,_ ’ Marinette wanted to stall him, wracking her brain for any excuse that seemed plausible. But her mind was coming up blank, and unless she wanted to tell him about the incident with that _thing_ in her room, which she most certainly did _not_ …

Marinette sighed in defeat. There was no choice but to let him go…not that she had the right to hold him here in the first place.

“Good night, Chat,” she bade him, offering her hand before he could reach for it. This appeared to amuse him, and he planted a careful kiss to the back of her hand before he winked, saluted, and absconded, disappearing into the night. Marinette lingered on her balcony for as long as she dared, her jittery disposition returning now that Chat was gone. His presence had been a balm on her nerves, allowing her to focus on something other than the terrifying happenings that had occurred just a few minutes ago. Marinette swallowed. This was the first time she felt unsafe in her own apartment…if it wasn’t for Tikki—

Oh shit, _Tikki!_

“Tikki?!” Marinette called, bursting back into her room, panic seizing her when she didn’t see the little kwami at first. But Tikki’s head popped up from Marinette’s bed soon enough, and Marinette felt herself grow weak with relief. Shakily, she shut the balcony doors behind her, locking them and grappling her curtains closed before she sank to the floor, her knees turning to jelly. Tikki flew forward, resting in Marinette’s palms and gazing up at her with profound worry.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Marinette sighed, stroking the top of Tikki’s head with her thumb. Tikki gave her a small smile, nuzzling her thumb in reassurance.

“I’m fine, Marinette.” Her smile dropped all too soon. “But are you okay?”

“I…I don’t know,” Marinette admitted. She leaned back against her balcony doors, shifting Tikki to one hand so she could massage her throbbing temple with the other. “So much has happened tonight… _so much…_ ”

Dealing with the new team dynamic, contending with Chat and Shell’s tension with each other, arguing with Nino, whatever the _fuck_ that thing was that had come at her, learning that Chat Noir had been in love with her— _legitimately in love with her_ —

Marinette was about to explode. She couldn’t handle all this at once; it was too much. She had to get away, and she had to do it now.

She stuffed her free hand into her pocket, drawing out her phone. A quick swipe of her fingers revealed her contact list, and Marinette tapped the second name listed. She only had to endure three long rings before the person on the other line picked up.

“Hey, girl.” Marinette heard Alya stifle a yawn before asking, “What’s up?”

Marinette cringed, clutching at her phone.

“I woke you up. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’m supposed to be editing this piece, anyway.” Alya gave another yawn. “But fuck it, Eric’ll be fine without it for a few days…anyway, what’s the matter? Something must be up for you to be calling me this late.”

Marinette swallowed. How did she phrase this without outright lying to Alya, but without revealing a truth so strange and horrible that it would put her best friend on edge…?

“I…heard a really creepy noise earlier. Nothing’s here, but…I’m kind of jumpy now...”

“Want to stay over tonight?” Alya offered without missing a beat. Marinette sighed in relief, grateful.

“You don’t mind?”

“Nah. I already told Nino I wasn’t leaving my apartment tonight, and I forbade him from coming over here ‘cause I was working…but I could use a little Marinette time.”

“Thank you, Alya. You’re the best.”

“I know. See you soon?”

“I gotta grab some stuff first, but yeah. See you soon.”

“Later, girl.”

As she hung up, Marinette stood up, her nerves less frazzled now that she had an escape plan. Tikki left her hand, choosing to float as Marinette went to her closet, tugging out an overnight bag and stuffing clothes into it at random. Before she yanked the zipper shut, she gestured to Tikki, waving her forward.

“Sorry for doing this, Tikki, but I honestly can’t stay here tonight. I’ll slip you some snacks when I can while we’re at Alya’s.”

Tikki flew obligingly into the bag, gazing worriedly up at Marinette.

“I don’t mind, as long as you feel safe, Marinette. But I really think we should tell Chat Noir and Emerald Shell about what happened.”

“Later,” Marinette insisted, flushing at the mention of Chat Noir and shaking her head at her own stupid, flustered state. “I can’t focus on anything else right now, Tikki. I promise I’ll find a way to tell them, but later.”

“All right,” Tikki assented, and Marinette gave her kwami an apologetic smile.

“Thanks, Tikki. Get comfy, okay? If I know Alya on a Friday night…it’s gonna be a long one.”

As Marinette yanked the zipper shut, Tikki nestled into one of her Chosen’s sweaters, now alone with her thoughts as Marinette fled from her own apartment. Frowning to herself, Tikki recalled the testimonies of Chat Noir and Wayzz, both stating that a dark, indistinct _something_ had attacked them, Chat for the Butterfly Miraculous, Master Fu and Wayzz for the Turtle Miraculous.

And now the same thing had happened to Marinette, though what the goal was this time, Tikki shuddered to guess. All she knew was that once was chance, twice was coincidence, but three times?

Three times, it was a pattern.

A very dangerous one.

Tikki pressed her tiny hands together, continuing to frown in the darkness of Marinette’s bag. She heard her Chosen’s car engine start, and any thought of sharing her concerns with Marinette were quickly vetoed.

Tikki knew Marinette very well by now. And because that was true, Tikki knew that if she dared to suggest that The Butterfly might have discovered Marinette’s true identity, Marinette would freak out, and then she would refuse to go to Alya, or anyone else, convinced that her presence would put everyone she loved in danger.

Marinette had dealt with enough for tonight. For now, Tikki would leave her be; as much faith as she had in her Chosen, a problem like this could wait until Marinette was equipped to deal with it.

As miraculous as Ladybug was…at the end of the day, under the mask and the suit…she was still only human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. There are NO page breaks in this chapter. That...doesn't seem like it's a good thing. ._.;
> 
> "The Beetle Band" is something siderealSandman came up with, and it is so dumb and perfect. XD
> 
> Sooo, while this was meant to be a 'clean house' sort of chapter...the plot somehow wormed its way in, too. ._. I suppose that's the opposite of a problem, but it wasn't intended, so I was all kinds of annoyed while writing. XP
> 
> *Eyes that long-ass MariChat scene* Uh...I can explain?
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> ~~I can't explain.~~
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	22. Bonds pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Glares at the 'part 1' part of the title*
> 
> That's IT. I have HAD it with these motherfuckin' two-parters in this motherfuckin' fic!
> 
> *Sighs* This will be the last one, damn it. The LAST two-parter, if it's the last thing I ever do!
> 
> ...*Ahem* Anyway, here's the chapter.
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

“Are you ready for this?”

“No.” Chat Noir gave a sigh, then straightened his shoulders. “Ready or not, though…”

“Here we come,” Ladybug finished. She reached over, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze, and he slid a grateful look her way.

“Guys, come on,” Emerald Shell insisted, poking his head back into the room they were supposed to be exiting. “The deputy mayor’s not gonna wait forever.”

With one last exchanged glance, Chat and Ladybug followed after Shell, Chat’s Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Ladybug had already told him that he would still be a part of the team, no matter how the public reacted. But, truth be told, it wasn’t himself Chat was worried about: how would the public react to _Ladybug_ wanting to work with him again? Wouldn’t they be angry that she had welcomed someone like him back to the team? Wouldn’t they be upset that the Protector of Paris was allying herself with someone who once held murder in his heart for the innocent?

Wouldn’t they lose faith in her?

Could Chat _allow_ them to lose faith in her, just for someone like _him?_

As if she sensed his hesitance, Ladybug reached out and took his wrist. She didn’t glance over at him, still walking tall as she, Chat, and Shell exited City Hall…but Chat rather felt that her face might be a little red, under the mask she was wearing…

Once they stepped out into the sunlight, Ladybug dropped his wrist. They were out in the open now: nowhere to run.

“…So without further ado,” the deputy mayor was announcing as they approached, “I give you everyone’s favorite spotted hero, Ladybug!”

The deputy mayor stepped politely out of the way, leading the applause as Team Miraculous stepped forward. Chat stared at the deputy mayor as they passed her, surprised—if he hadn’t known any better, he would’ve mistaken her for Marinette’s older sister with a pixie cut. She didn’t have the adorable freckles that adorned Marinette’s face, but with that dark hair and those blue eyes…hmm…

Ladybug tapped one of the microphones clipped to the podium, and Chat’s attention snapped to her, as did the attention of the awaiting crowd at the bottom of the stairs of City Hall. Cameras flashed and rolled, reporters held out their microphones, as if to catch Ladybug’s words themselves rather than listening to them through the speakers. Chat wanted to blame his nerves for this, but it seemed as if he could already hear mutters of discontent emanating from the crowd as eyes flashed between him and the other two heroes; clearly, one of these things was not like the others.

Ladybug glanced around at the crowd, appearing unperturbed by the mutterings. Shell stood at her side, and Chat felt a pang over his lack of courage to join them. He was a coward.

“First, I’d like to thank Mayor Fantoche and the deputy mayor for arranging yet another press conference for me,” Ladybug announced, with an apologetic glance at the deputy mayor. “I’m sorry for taking up your time, Deputy Mayor Reine.”

Deputy Mayor Reine shook her head with a patient smile and gestured for Ladybug continue. Appearing heartened, Ladybug turned back to the crowd. Chat witnessed her back straightening before she proceeded.

“As you all have undoubtedly noticed, an old face is among us once again.”

She gestured behind her, towards Chat Noir, but the movement was unnecessary, for all eyes were upon him the minute she dared to mention him. Chat swallowed, feeling himself stiffen, unsure of how to act. Should he be cool and confident, like Ladybug? Should he appear openly apologetic?

As the mutterings increased in volume, scared and angry voices creating a cacophony of distrust, Chat felt the urge to flee grow with every passing second. This was a bad idea after all—they shouldn’t have done this. He shouldn’t have come back. He—

“Chat Noir has seen the error of his ways,” Ladybug pressed on, though she spoke a little louder to drown out the grumblings, “he has agreed that his debt to Paris could best be paid by helping Emerald Shell and I take down The Butterfly.”

“Ladybug, one moment!” Cried one of the reporters near the front, lifting her microphone as high as she could lift it. “Are you certain it’s _wise_ to allow Chat Noir to remain a superhero, after all the animosity he’s caused?”

“Yeah, he terrorized Paris just as much as the akumas!” A civilian in the crowd chimed in, loud enough for Chat to hear.

“Where is the proof that he won’t turn on you as soon as you let your guard down?”

“How do you know he’s not secretly working for The Butterfly?”

“Working for—that’s just ridiculous,” Ladybug ridiculed immediately, and though Chat was standing behind her, he could practically see the scowl forming on his Lady’s face. “We might have been working against each other for a time, but the fact remains that Chat Noir has never _once_ allied himself with our enemy! And besides,” she called louder still over the negative chatter, “I trust Chat Noir. He’s apologized for what he’s done, and that’s good enough for me.”

“What apology? I didn’t hear no apology!”

“Yeah! Has he ‘apologized’ to the people he tried to _kill?!_ ”

“What are you _thinking,_ Ladybug?!”

“He’s no hero!”

“He’s dangerous!”

“You’re letting him trick you!”

“No Chat Noir!”

“No Chat Noir! No Chat Noir!”

Oh no…it was happening. Everywhere he looked, Chat could see disapproving citizens shaking their heads, or otherwise joining in the chant, their fists raised to punctuate the call for his retirement. But Chat Noir could overlook all of that, if he tried.

What he could not overlook was the way Ladybug’s shoulders slumped. He didn’t know how she could, but she had clearly envisioned this press conference going differently. Though she tried to press on, the cries of the crowd continued to interrupt her:

“NO CHAT NOIR! NO CHAT NOIR! NO CHAT NOIR!”

Chat saw Shell lean over and mutter something to Ladybug, but she shook her head, hands clutching the podium as if her life depended on it.

“They have to understand!” Chat heard Ladybug say to Shell; she turned her head to address him, and Chat was _hurt_ to see the look of desperation entering her eyes. “He’s sorry! They have to accept that! They have to—”

“LB, open your eyes: the people have spoken. They won’t accept him.”

The words weren’t cold; they were merely a statement of fact, and Chat didn’t begrudge Shell that. But the honesty seemed to pierce Ladybug in the worst way, and she slammed her fist against the podium, obviously frustrated.

“Listen to me!” She cried, her voice echoing over the crowd, thanks to the many microphones in front of her. “Chat Noir is not our enemy! It’s like I’ve been saying—we can’t turn on each other like this! The city has already been torn apart enough as it is!”

“And who caused that rift, Ladybug?”

“Yeah! Remind us: who was it exactly that started the mentality that all akumatized victims were bad and needed to be put down like rabid dogs?!”

“NO CHAT NOIR! NO CHAT NOIR!”

The chant doubled and strengthened, and though Ladybug pleaded for peace, the anger and fear inspired by Chat Noir’s presence would not be staunched. He was no longer a representation of bad luck, it seemed: he had been upgraded to bad omen.

Chat heard Shell suggest that they leave, and even the deputy mayor was approaching, looking worried, but Chat couldn’t take his eyes off his Lady’s hands and the way they clenched the podium, as if the only way to remove her would be by physical force. She was so determined to stay and press his case for him, even if the crowd was unwilling to listen—even if the whole of Paris was against her.

Chat’s heart ached at the sight…and suddenly, from somewhere deep inside himself…he found the courage to step forward.

Ladybug jumped when she felt his hand on her shoulder; she turned, blue eyes wide and frantic, bottom lip caught in between her teeth. Chat gave her a little smile.

“It’s okay,” he muttered, gently tugging at her shoulder to get her to step away. “Let it go, My Lady.”

“But Chat—!”

“This is my problem, Ladybug,” Chat insisted, growing serious. “Therefore, it’s no one’s responsibility but mine. Let me start making my amends on my own. Please.”

The crowd was still shouting, rioting, but Chat barely heard them now—Ladybug held his complete and undivided attention, as she always did when she was nearby. He watched as several emotions flashed through those bluebell eyes of hers: concern, uncertainty, fear, anger, heartache. The last one pierced in an especially effective way, and his grip on her shoulder tightened.

“Please, Ladybug.”

Shell was staring long and hard at Chat. Feeling his gaze, Chat glanced up, meeting his eyes…and something seemed to click between them.

“Let him give it a shot, LB,” he encouraged as well, laying a hand on Ladybug’s arm. “It _is_ his mess to clean up, and you’re not his maid.”

Ladybug’s brow puckered. She was unused to backing down, Chat knew; this was a matter of her pride as well as his redemption. Summoning what cheekiness he could muster in this situation, he managed a wink.

“ _You_ trust me, at least, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Ladybug replied without missing a beat. Chat felt a rush of warmth flood through him at the words, and he gave her shoulder a squeeze.

“Then let me try.”

Ladybug searched his face for a long time. Whatever she saw there, by some miracle, seemed to be enough—she took a step back, allowing him access to the podium.

The crowd seemed to lose its nerve and mob-like mentality when Chat Noir stepped forward; the chanting faded until it died away completely, and the crowd shifted, restless. Wary eyes were upon him, mistrusting, fearful. Chat took that in, glancing around the crowd, mulling over his words. This would most likely be pointless—after all, if _Ladybug_ couldn’t assuage the public’s fear…

But he had to at least _try_ , didn’t he?

Frowning to himself, Chat decided to start with how he felt about the crowd’s words. Leaning forward, he made sure his face was planted squarely at the center of all the microphones before he spoke:

“…You’re right. I’m no hero.”

There was a sharp intake of breath beside him, but Chat managed to ignore Ladybug; he needed to get this out, while he still had the chance.

“A few months ago, I turned my back on everything I once fought for. I turned my back on my morals, Ladybug…and _you,_ Paris. With my own two hands, I split this city down the middle, and created chaos. I turned rational thinking citizens into fear-mongering fanatics, fanatics that have hurt others, fanatics that almost ended a life earlier this month…in _my_ name.”

Chat Noir clenched his hands, his claws digging into the podium, his sins weighing heavily upon him. His fault, all his fault…

“I have no excuse for it, no justification that can get me out of this. All I can say is that I’m sorry.”

A rippling of doubtful murmurs went through the crowd at this, something Chat acknowledged right away.

“I know—you have no reason to take me at my word. And that’s fine—I don’t expect you to. Actions always speak louder than words, and my track record is against me. I know that.”

Chat took a deep breath, forcing himself to stand tall, resisting the urge to shrink away. He could do this…he _had_ to…

“A wise person once told me that the suit doesn’t make the hero. It’s our compassion, even for our enemies, that make us heroes.” Chat paused momentarily to glance at Ladybug, who stared back at him, her hands clutched into a ball in front of her chest. She smiled a little at the reminder, and that heartened Chat, allowing him to continue.

“That being said, no amount of good deeds could make up for betraying your trust. I know that, too.” He felt himself frown, a ripple of determination stirring within him. “But that doesn’t matter, because I won’t stop trying. So watch me, Paris. Continue to judge me by my actions, because from now on, every move I make will be with _you_ in mind, and what it means to be a hero of Paris. I’ll do everything in my power to never disgrace Ladybug, Emerald Shell, or you ever again. And if you still think I’m unworthy once we settle this whole Butterfly mess…then I will surrender my Miraculous and retire.”

“Chat!”

“Shh!” Shell shushed Ladybug, which Chat was grateful for; he didn’t want to fight her on this, because he knew he was weak-willed when it came to her. If she told him to stay, he would not argue. Hell, she might as well put a collar on him at this point…but that was another issue altogether.

The crowd below grumbled and murmured, expressions ranging from uncertainty to outright distrust. But they were no longer chanting, at least. That much, Chat could be grateful for.

“I don’t ask for a second chance, because I know that’s not something that can be asked for,” he continued, “It has to be earned. And, though I’m not sure if I can…I’m going to try. Please watch me, Paris. Watch me become a better person…and a better hero.”

Chat turned away from the podium, gesturing with a flick of his head that he was ready to leave. Ladybug and Shell each gave him a nod, and before the crowd could ask any more questions or shout any more accusations, the three heroes were off. It took only a few rooftops before Ladybug’s hand found his arm, pulling him to a stop. He stumbled, balancing precariously on one leg for a moment before he regained his footing, turning around to meet her glare.

Uh-oh. Looked like he was in trouble…

“Chat Noir, you are _not allowed to retire,_ ” she snarled at him, and Chat blinked at the ferocity of the order. Wow…he still couldn’t believe that she actually wanted him around that much…

“Not even if all of Paris is calling for my head on a pike by the end of this?” Chat asked, smiling a little at the joke…but Ladybug was not amused.

“You swore to me you’d help me fix this—”

“And I will,” Chat interrupted with a firm nod. “But once The Butterfly is defeated…what then, Ladybug?”

“Th-then we continue to watch out for the city!” Ladybug protested, hands on her hips as she glared up at him. “Just because a big problem goes away doesn’t mean all the other little problems do!”

“What little problems?” Chat inquired, tilting his head to the side. “You didn’t have a lot to deal with after Hawk Moth was gone, did you?”

Ladybug opened her mouth to retort…but then closed it again, her scowl intensifying. Clearly, he had a point, and she hated that.

“He has a point, LB,” Shell suddenly spoke, and Chat registered his presence beside them, his arms folded as he frowned thoughtfully. “You gotta admit that things were super quiet after Hawk M—”

“You shut up!” Ladybug snapped at him, to both Chat’s and Shell’s surprise. “You’re only supporting his decision to retire because you don’t like him! You’re letting your feelings cloud your judgment!”

Chat watched as Shell gawked at Ladybug incredulously.

“ _I’m_ letting _my_ feelings cloud _my_ judgment? Hey Pot, meet Kettle! Guess what: you’re black!”

“Guys, _please,_ ” Chat interrupted before Ladybug could shoot back. “Don’t we have enough to worry about without sniping at each other?” With a shake of his head, he turned to Ladybug to address her. “Look…this isn’t your decision, Ladybug. It _isn’t,_ ” he stressed when Ladybug opened her mouth to protest. “It’s mine. Paris can’t have a hero they’re afraid of; that’s not how this works. So if it means I have to work my ass off to gain back whatever trust I can, then I’ll do it. And even if it’s not enough then—if not a _single_ citizen will stand with me when The Butterfly is finally defeated—then I didn’t do a good enough job. Simple as that.”

“Chat—” Ladybug began to protest, but Chat shook his head, signaling that he would hear no more arguments over this, before he turned to Shell.

“Emerald Shell. If and when the day comes that I’m no longer needed, I’m counting on you to take my Miraculous.”

Shell blinked, apparently startled.

“Why me?”

“Because you’re the Guardian now, aren’t you?”

“How do you know that?”

“Master Fu told me.”

“You know Master Fu?”

“Of course—he’s the one who gave me my Miraculous in the first place,” Chat replied with a shrug. Briefly, his mind flashed back to the short meeting he had with the elder master, grateful that the old man hadn’t berated him once he finally came crawling back to seek guidance…but in a way, that was worse, too. And he had refused to take his Miraculous, because he ‘was no longer the Guardian’, or so he said. Chat personally suspected that the old man wouldn’t let him return his Miraculous even if he was still the Guardian; he sensed that the old man was simply strange that way.

“And anyway, that’s not the point: I’m trusting you to take my Miraculous from me in the future, because I know it’ll be harder to give up the more time that passes. I need someone to make that decision for me.” Chat’s eyes flickered to Ladybug briefly before they settled on Shell once more. “…Someone impartial.”

“You are _not_ unworthy of your Miraculous, Chat!” Ladybug butted into the conversation, actually placing herself physically in between Chat and Shell, refusing to be ignored. “You might have hurt people, but it’s not like I’m blameless, either!”

“LB, that was an _accident,_ ” Shell said, placing a hand on Ladybug’s shoulder from behind. “You didn’t mean to kill—”

“I’m not talking about Hawk Moth,” Ladybug protested, shrugging her shoulder to rid herself of Shell’s touch, her gaze dropping away from Chat, shame crawling into her expression. “I’m talking about…about Black Widow.”

“…What happened with Black Widow?” Shell questioned, and Chat stared in surprise. Had Ladybug really not told their turtle friend what happened? Sure, he could tell she felt bad about it, but he didn’t think she’d hide it from Shell…or was her shame so great that she had hoped to keep such a sin in between her and Chat…?

Ladybug sighed, fingers massaging the bridge of her nose as she squeezed her eyes shut, her back still to Shell.

“She hit Chat Noir with his own baton, made him bleed…so I punched her across the face. And when I finally freed the akuma…it screamed. Because I hurt her.”

Shell stared at the back of Ladybug’s head for about ten seconds. He lifted his gaze to Chat’s afterwards, looking grim.

“I see what you mean about the impartiality thing,” he said dryly, and Chat grimaced in response. “Ugh…all right, fine. If you’re forced into retirement…I’ll take your Miraculous.”

“Thank you,” Chat replied, relieved. Well, that was one load off his mind, at least…

“So how _I_ feel about the situation doesn’t even matter?” Ladybug protested, glaring at the pair of them. Chat sighed to himself. Of course Ladybug wouldn’t be happy about losing her partner again—to be quite honest, Chat wasn’t thrilled with the idea either. But he had forfeited the right to anything the minute he witnessed the problems his attitude towards the akumatized victims was creating…and had _still_ turned his back on Ladybug when she had begged him to come back and help her.

“Ladybug, you don’t need me,” he said softly. Ladybug opened her mouth to protest, but Chat anticipated that; he pressed a thumb against her lips, halting her speech. “You _don’t._ You may think you do…but you really don’t.”

“Chat, I’d be _dead_ without you,” she protested anyway, batting his hand away.

“You’d be dead without Shell, too,” Chat pointed out, smiling a little when Ladybug began to pout because, once again, he had a point and she didn’t like it. “He’s reliable enough—more reliable than me. I trust him to watch your back, even after I’m gone.”

“…Okay, you need to stop. Your votes of confidence are making me feel like an ass,” Shell remarked, looking uncomfortable. Chat chuckled at this.

“Sorry, Shelly. I’ll go back to antagonizing you in a minute, promise.”

“You’d better.”

Chat smirked at that before his eyes fell on Ladybug again, who was still looking less than pleased with the situation. Oh boy.

“Don’t look like that, My Lady,” he pleaded with her, giving her his kitty eyes in an attempt to soften her. “This isn’t a sure thing. The public’s opinion of me _could_ change. But even if it doesn’t, it doesn’t matter—whether in the suit or as a civilian, you’ll always have my support.”

Ladybug sighed, her frown melting away, giving way to worry.

“Chat, I—”

Abruptly she paused, turning to stare at Shell, who gave her a dry look.

“Yes, amazingly, I am still here,” he said sarcastically.

“Shell—” Ladybug began, but Shell was already shaking his head.

“Uh-uh. Don’t bother asking: the answer is _no_ , Dots.” Chat watched curiously as Shell scowled down at her. “Don’t give me that look. I already told you why I think this is a bad idea.”

“What’s a bad idea?” Chat questioned, moving to the side so he could see Ladybug’s expression as well, which was frustrated…and a little bit embarrassed, for some reason.

“Nothing,” Shell and Ladybug replied at the same time, serving only to feed Chat’s curiosity as he glanced between the pair of them during their silent stand-off. …Huh…for teammates that only just started working together last month…they sure were close. Again, Chat got the inkling that there was something more here than what he was seeing…but if they wouldn’t tell him voluntarily, then he had no right to ask. It was clearly none of his business.

“…Okay…well, I think we should probably call it a day, then,” Chat replied, still giving Ladybug and Shell searching glances. “I think we’ve all had enough emotional turmoil to deal with…unless there’s something else we all need to discuss?”

“…Oh,” Ladybug said, and Chat’s gaze snapped to her, finding that the blood had suddenly drained from her face, her eyes distant. As Chat stared, concerned, Shell heaved a sigh.

“That doesn’t sound like a good ‘oh’.”

“It’s not.” Ladybug folded her arms around herself, glancing in between Chat and Shell, an uncharacteristic fear glinting in her eyes, hurting Chat with its sudden appearance. “There’s something I need to tell you guys…”

 

* * *

 

He wasn’t flirting with her anymore.

Ladybug couldn’t help but notice it, even as they were battling an akuma—though Chat Noir grew more and more comfortable with the new team dynamic, throwing out his witty one-liners and ignoring Emerald Shell’s perfunctory huffs of impatience, anything he tossed her way was nothing more than polite praise. If he had to catch her from falling, he set her down as soon as she was steady, never touching her as much as he used to, his smiles always polite when she thanked him.

His actions spoke volumes about the efforts he was making towards getting over her. And Ladybug should be happy for him. She really should be.

But every time he glanced away from her too soon, as if his interest could only be claimed for a few seconds at a time, she felt a wriggling, uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach.

And she was ashamed.

‘ _It’s only because I’m not used to it, yet,_ ’ Ladybug sternly told herself as they succeeded in capturing the akuma (after having to contend with a couple dummy akumas) and purifying it.

‘ _The way we relate to each other has changed, so I’m only uncomfortable because I’m re-adjusting,_ ’ Ladybug continued her self-lecture as she, Chat, and Shell put in a token appearance for the cameras that followed them, though they did not deign to pause for questions from reporters this time around—last week’s disastrous press conference was enough exposure for them for the moment.

‘ _I do_ not _need Chat to fawn over me to feel validated…it’s not like I’m that kind of girl…I’m not_ Chloe. _It’s only weird because it’s different, that’s_ it. _I do_ not _have feelings for Chat Noir, I do_ not, _I do_ not—’

“LB?”

“No I don’t!” Ladybug blurted out, quite loudly and suddenly. Shell and Chat stared at her, and Ladybug blushed, cursing herself to the deepest pit in existence.

“You don’t what?” Shell questioned, only to have Ladybug wave a dismissive hand, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Never mind. I was thinking about something else. What were we talking about?”

“That thing that tried to attack you a couple weeks ago,” Chat filled her in, his expression briefly becoming the darkest Ladybug had seen it since he rejoined the team. “Has it shown up again?”

“No,” Ladybug replied with no small amount of relief. “But I’ve been kind of avoiding my apartment at night, anyway…”

Here she glanced apologetically at Shell, who gave her a half shrug and a look of grace. Alya hadn’t questioned this sudden need for girl time with Marinette (although no doubt she was suspicious that something was wrong and was just waiting to bring it up), but since Marinette had been spending the night at Alya’s apartment since last week, Nino’s already limited time with his fiancée had been cut in half. He _said_ he didn’t mind, but Marinette still felt bad about it…when she wasn’t too busy feeling so relieved over how safe she felt with someone else sleeping next to her…

Ladybug glanced over, realizing too late that Chat was eyeing them again, suspicion scrunching up his nose as his cat’s eyes glanced between her and Shell. Hastily, Ladybug wrapped up the conversation.

“I’ll let you guys know if anything else happens, and you should let the team know if something like that comes after you, too, got it?”

Shell and Chat nodded, and Ladybug breathed a little easier. Some days were harder than others, but since Chat and Shell’s agreement after the press conference, they were becoming more of a team with every passing day, and for that, she could not be more grateful.

“Good. So, patrol: as long as everything’s quiet, we’ll meet up again on Friday night and prowl around to make sure the city’s safe. Sound good?”

“Ah,” Chat spoke up, and Ladybug’s gaze snapped to him as he rubbed the back of his head, looking oddly sheepish. “I, uh, may not be able to make patrol on Friday.”

“Why not?” Shell demanded to know, his golden eyes narrowing. Ladybug shot him a look that warned him to be nice before Chat gave his explanation.

“I have a friend staying with me this week, which kind of makes it hard to slip away. I’ll try, of course, but, uh, if I can’t make it, you’ll know why.”

“A friend?” Ladybug questioned without meaning to. She bit her lip when the words escaped, cursing herself again. It was _none of her business_ what Chat did in his free time, so she had no excuse to be prying now. But still, a small part of her could not help but wonder if this ‘friend’ was the person Chat admitted to ‘seeing’ when Marinette had stupidly made a pass at him for no good reason—

“Yeah. So, sorry if I become scarce—she’d notice if I suddenly disappeared all the time without warning,” Chat explained with a cringe.

‘She’.

So it _was_ a woman…

As Ladybug grappled with the sudden python-like twisting of her insides, she heard Shell say,

“Dude, ditching us for a girl? Not cool.”

Chat opened his mouth, looking awkward, but then his beeping Miraculous interrupted, and he merely gave a shrug instead.

“Sorry. I’ll do my best to make it Friday.”

With a half wave, Chat Noir bounded away, and Ladybug let out a huff, fiddling with her yo-yo in agitation. Shell gave her a strange look.

“…You okay, LB?”

“Fine,” she snapped, contradicting the word immediately with her tone. Shell raised his hands in a peace-making gesture, but Ladybug ignored him, hooking her yo-yo to a nearby streetlight to swing down from the rooftop they were currently occupying. “Let’s go.”

Once they were untransformed, Nino spoke up again.

“Didn’t you have a meeting with Adrien today?”

Marinette scowled.

“I was supposed to…but he cancelled.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I guess it doesn’t much matter, since he’s seen what I’m planning to do, and I’ve shown most of the outfits to him already, without one or two final touches. The meetings are basically formality at this point…”

Marinette glanced up, catching the look on Nino’s face, the furrow of her brows deepening at the sight of it.

“And they’re kept _strictly professional_ at _all times,_ ” She bothered to stress, and Nino chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head.

“I didn’t say anything, ‘Nette.”

“You were wearing the ‘you’re-totally-fucking-him-in-his-office-aren’t-you’ look on your face.”

“Oddly specific look…”

“Yeah, well, you and Alya are a lot alike.”

“Sorry,” Nino apologized, presumably for both him and his fiancée, before clearing his throat. “The winner of Desiree’s competition’ll be decided soon, yeah?”

“Yep.” Marinette stared ahead, the grim finality settling upon her. “My future as a designer will be decided in a month. But no pressure or anything…”

Nino snorted loudly.

“You’re kidding, right? You have a better chance than anyone, since you’re dating one of the judges.”

“Adrien and I are _not_ dating,” Marinette protested, though it was simply force of habit at this point. “Besides, it’s not just up to him: Desiree has to weigh in as well.”

“Oh, right, the professor who adores you. You’ve got it rough, ‘Nette.”

“Can you not?” Marinette demanded, pausing to put her hands on her hips as she scowled up at Nino, whose smirk abruptly dropped at the sight of her furious expression. “This is my _livelihood_ , Nino! This competition is all I have going for my fashion career right now, and you know I _hate_ having all my eggs in one basket. And there could just as easily be someone in the class who’s more talented than me, so don’t act like it’s a sure thing, or you’ll jinx me!”

“Sorry,” Nino replied, looking abashed. “I didn’t mean to freak you out, ‘Nette. I was just saying that I had faith in you.”

Aw…well, now she felt like a jerk.

Marinette sighed, feeling her anger leave her with the exhalation.

“I’m sorry, Nino. I’m just nervous.”

“It’s cool. Like you said, it’s your livelihood.” As they resumed their walk, Nino clapped Marinette on the shoulder. “I just feel really good about your chances.” When Marinette glanced up at him, Nino gave her a wink. “Doesn’t hurt to be extremely lucky either, does it?”

She could tell he was trying to ease her nerves, and Marinette gave a weak chuckle.

“I guess not. Still, I’m not willing to bet it all on luck…no offense, Tikki.”

“None taken! I know how hard you work for your designs, Marinette!” Squeaked the kwami from Marinette’s muffler, drawing curious gazes from the people that passed by. Nino and Marinette walked a little faster.

“That’s true, you do work hard,” Nino acknowledged as _Boulangerie Patisserie_ came into view. “That’s why I’m so confident you’ve got this in the bag…but if you don’t want me ‘jinxing’ things, I’ll stop.”

Marinette sighed, and then gave Nino a smile.

“No, it’s fine. The stress is just piling on, you know? Not to mention that I can’t get as much sewing done as I want, since I’m avoiding my place at night, now…”

Nino scowled as they stopped across the street from the bakery, waiting for the crosswalk light to turn green.

“And you’re _sure_ it wasn’t an akuma?”

“I’ve been fighting akuma for seven years, Nino,” Marinette reminded him with a dry look. “I know what they look like by now. And that was _not_ it.”

Nino shook his head, and they crossed when the light flashed green at last.

“We may have to bring Master Fu in on this.”

“I know, but later, when I don’t have quite so much to worry about,” Marinette requested as she reached for the handle of the bakery door, Nino pausing just behind her. “It’s been a struggle keeping my head from spinning off my shoulders lately as is.”

“True; it’s not like I have a lot of free time left nowadays either, since I’m still working on making enough tracks to fill a CD…” Nino took a deep breath, his eyes widening slightly as he gazed at Marinette. “I never really appreciated how much data can fit on a CD until now…”

Marinette laughed at that, reaching back to pat his arm.

“Let’s both do our best, okay?”

“You got it.” Nodding to Sabine, who waved at him through the window, Nino shot a finger gun at Marinette. “You know where to find me if you need me.”

“Thanks, Nino.” As she opened the door, Marinette’s smile turned mischievous. “I’ll be sure to return your fiancée eventually.”

“You’re lucky I love you, you homewrecker.”

“You’re lucky I love you enough not to be a _legitimate_ homewrecker, Nino.”

“…Damn. Touche.”

 

* * *

 

“Girl, what are you doing?”

Marinette glanced up from the novel she had been reading, blinking confused eyes as Alya stood over her, hands on her hips, a stern scowl on her face, hazel eyes narrowed.

Uh-oh. And here Marinette believed she wouldn’t need to have a last will and testament prepared at the tender age of twenty-one…

Afraid of making any sudden movements, Marinette carefully dog-eared her book and set it to the side, eyeing Alya warily.

“What do you mean…?”

Alya huffed and flopped on the couch next to Marinette, crossing her legs under her as she continued to frown at her best friend.

“Look, you know I love you, but this isn’t like you.”

“What isn’t like me?”

“You’re running from something,” Alya accused with a frown. Marinette bit her lip. Well…she wasn’t _wrong_ , per se…

When Marinette didn’t bother to deny it, Alya sighed, sliding an arm around Marinette’s shoulders, her hand resting atop Marinette’s head as she patted it.

“Normally I’d demand to know whatever it is that’s bugging you so much that you can’t stand the thought of being home…but because this is so out of character for you, I won’t push. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, and you can talk to me about anything, okay?”

Marinette glanced over, but Alya was too busy resting her head against Marinette’s to make eye contact, her hand stroking through Marinette’s hair.

“Anything at all,” Alya added fervently.

Marinette felt her heart swell, and she wrapped both her arms around her best friend, giving her a squeeze.

“Thank you, Alya. I’m sorry for invading your space lately; I know you miss Nino—”

“Psh. ‘Miss’ nothing…” Alya paused, and Marinette thought she detected a faint smirk crossing her best friend’s lips from her peripheral vision. “…Okay, so I miss him a little.”

“More like a lot,” Marinette teased, and Alya gave a shrug, straightening up and grinning.

“Well, lovely as you are, girl, I kind of have an itch that only the boy can scratch…” Alya gave Marinette a wink. “Well, I mean, unless you wanna get creative—”

“May I remind you that you’re engaged?” Marinette teased, tapping the fourth finger on Alya’s left hand, where her engagement ring rested. Alya laughed and raised her hand to admire her ring, grinning that grin she always wore when thinking about Nino.

“True…damn, guess I’d better behave, then.”

“I can help you out with that itch in my own way, though,” Marinette said, sliding out from under Alya’s arm and getting to her feet. “I think it’s about time I head home.”

“Aw, Marinette, you don’t have to go,” Alya protested, but Marinette waved her off, grabbing the things strewn about the apartment that belonged to her.

“It’s been a week, Alya. Seriously, you’ve been more than nice—you’ve been a saint.”

“True,” Alya allowed, and they both laughed, knowing full well that out of the two of them, Alya was definitely the most difficult roommate, if only because she was a messy creature and a wild sleeper. Once Marinette had retrieved all of her stuff, she carefully checked that Tikki was in her bag before she zipped it shut.

“All right, I’m going. Go see Nino, get that ‘itch’ scratched,” Marinette encouraged, grinning as she headed for the door, slipping on her coat and muffler.

“If you insist,” Alya replied with a drawn-out sigh, as if Marinette was putting her out. As Marinette stepped out into the hall, Alya paused at the door, sparing her best friend a concerned glance. “But you know you can always come back if you need to, right? I don’t care what time of the night it is or whatever, if you need me—”

“I love you too, Alya,” Marinette assured her with a bright smile. She stepped forward and gave her a tight hug before drawing back. “And don’t worry: you’re always the first person I think of when I need to get out of a bind.”

Alya gave Marinette a wink.

“Good, ‘cause you know I’d kill for you, girl. And that ain’t an exaggeration.”

“I know,” Marinette sighed with a shake of her head. “It’s also why I always have to keep you out of trouble.”

“You still love me anyway,” Alya reminded her, and Marinette grinned. “Say, y’know, it’s still early…when was the last time you saw Adrien?”

“Um, a couple days ago, I think,” Marinette replied, quickly searching her memory for the most recent mental image of Adrien’s face. “We had coffee.”

Alya raised an eyebrow.

“Coffee. How…stimulating.”

“Alya—”

“I’m just saying, it couldn’t hurt to get an itch or two of your own scratched, girl,” Alya teased with a wink, causing Marinette to sigh. “Think about it. G’night.”

“Night,” Marinette replied, giving Alya a final wave before the door was closed. Shaking her head, Marinette made her way out of the apartment complex, Alya’s suggestion still ringing in her ears. Getting her itches scratched, huh…

‘ _We’re_ not like that,’ Marinette sternly reminded herself, pouting as she climbed into her car and started it, driving down the street and pulling out onto the main road. Honestly, the closest she and Adrien had gotten towards anything sexual was the night he spent at her house, weeks ago. Since then, they had both been too busy for anything other than stolen kisses when they had a free moment alone, which was almost never, since she, Adrien, Nino, and Alya tended to hang out as a group. And Marinette was fine with that, really. She was sincerely happy with the way things were…they were taking it slow, smart…

…Okay, so sex wouldn’t _kill_ her, per se, but when she considered the fact that Adrien wasn’t ready for a relationship…

‘ _Sex isn’t a relationship,_ ’ Alya’s voice butted into her mind as Marinette drove. ‘ _Sex is sex. And when it’s done right? Mind-fucking-blowing. C’mon, when was the last time you got some, girl?_ ’

Marinette caught her own displeased look in her rearview mirror, and hastily glanced away. It had been a while…about two years now, give or take a month. Too long, probably, in Alya’s opinion. But so what? It wasn’t like Marinette needed a man to scratch that particular itch…but it _was_ nice to have a little skin-on-skin contact, too…and she couldn’t pretend that she hadn’t wondered what Adrien would be like in bed…the little noises he made when they kissed made her _intensely_ curious…

Marinette shook herself, violently yanking her mind from the gutter. Now was not the time for her to be having _those_ kinds of thoughts, _especially_ not while she was operating a vehicle—

…Wait. This wasn’t her street…

Marinette blinked and looked around, tapping her break. This was not her street, but it was familiar…in fact, if she wasn’t mistaken—

Marinette glanced to the right and bit back a groan: Adrien’s place was just a few houses down. As she was thinking about him, she had unwittingly driven to his house. Great.

Grumbling curses to herself, Marinette’s foot pressed onto the gas pedal…but only long enough for her to drift closer to Adrien’s house. She glanced over, noting that the living room light was on—he was home.

Well…she was in the neighborhood…it would be rude to just go home without saying hello, wouldn’t it…?

‘ _Atta girl,_ ’ Alya’s voice egged on in the back of Marinette’s mind as she parked. Marinette firmly shushed the sound of her best friend’s voice, banishing it for the moment. It wasn’t like she was going over for a booty call…just to say hello. That’s it. Just hello…

‘ _I suck at lying, even to myself,_ ’ Marinette acknowledged with a sigh as she slipped through the gate, making her way up Adrien’s walkway and climbing the stairs to the front door. Stupidly, she smoothed out her coat, wondering if she was presentable, before deciding that it didn’t matter because she was _just here to say hello_. She took a deep breath, held it for three seconds, let it go…and then pressed the doorbell.

A few seconds later, Adrien answered, his puzzled expression turning into surprised delight when he spotted her. He was still in his work clothes from the day, she could see, though the top few buttons of his shirt were undone, exposing his chest in an enticing manner—

“Mari!” He greeted, snapping Marinette out of her sinful thoughts long enough to focus on his smile as he opened the door wider, stepping forward to embrace her. Mmm…he smelled good…

‘ _Get a hold of yourself,_ ’ Marinette sternly ordered herself as she returned the hug with just the right amount of enthusiasm and no more. Adrien kept an arm around her even as he pulled back, the warmth of his body felt even through Marinette’s coat.

“What’re you doing here?” Adrien asked, grinning in a pleased manner. “Didn’t come all the way out here to see me, did you?”

“Well, I didn’t plan to…but I kind of blanked as I was driving and found myself in the neighborhood, so…” Marinette gave a “what the hell” shrug. “So, if you’re not busy…maybe we could hang out?”

Marinette could not help but notice the way Adrien’s grin faltered.

“Ah…actually—” He began, looking awkward about something, but before he could finish, there was the sound of a door opening upstairs, and a voice rang out,

“Ah, _‘scuza,_ Adrien, but where did you say the extra towels—oh!”

Marinette craned her neck around Adrien, her eyes widening.

Standing at the top of the stairs was a girl.

No, not a girl—a woman.

A very wet, very _naked_ woman, save for the towel she had wrapped around her, clutched close at her large bosom. She was shorter than Marinette, and her curves were emphasized by the towel clinging to her body. Thick, wet dark hair hung around her face, her olive skin smooth and glittering with beads of water. She blinked dark, surprised eyes as she spotted Marinette, half-raising a hand in greeting after a moment.

“Uh… _buonasera…_ ” she greeted sheepishly. Marinette knew just enough Italian to know that it meant “good evening”.

Well…it seemed she wasn’t the only one who was full of surprises tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh, Adrien, WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING?
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> ~~not Marinette, apparently. *Shot*~~
> 
>  
> 
> We'll hear his explanations about this mysterious Italian woman next chapter~ :D
> 
> By the way, this is a blanket statement for all those wondering: **there is no such thing as an update schedule for this fic.** Like I said, I will update when I update.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna
> 
> EDIT: JESUS CHRIST, y'all need to chill.
> 
> I'm serious, stop it. You know nothing about this woman other than the fact that she's in nothing but a towel in Adrien's apartment.
> 
> Wanting her dead is a little EXTREME, don't you think?
> 
> Stop it. Just stop. Sit down and chill the fuck out. Seriously. No more comments threatening harm towards an innocent woman. Jesus fucking Christ y'all are scaring me. Talk to someone about this, seriously. She is fictional, but that doesn't make this behavior okay.
> 
> Stop it.
> 
> STOP. IT.


	23. Bonds pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Stares at you all with a blank expression*
> 
> Guys, I know this is a fictional story with fictional characters, but real talk? Some of the comments I got on the last chapter were Not Cool™.
> 
> Threatening violence and murder against a woman who did nothing but show up in a towel in Adrien’s house is not cool.
> 
> Threatening violence and murder against a woman who only spoke two lines in the last chapter, neither of them indicating that she was any sort of demon who deserved such treatment in any way, is not cool.
> 
> Threatening violence and murder against a woman you know nothing about is NOT. COOL.
> 
> As a woman, these threats, though they weren’t aimed at me, made me shake. I was terrified for this character, and the reaction with which she was greeted. Don’t get me wrong, I expected a few of you to be pissed, but to immediately jump to talk of killing? Shooting? LYNCHING? (As a black woman, that word was especially not fun to read.) And the fact that all of these comments were focused on the mystery woman, even though IT TAKES TWO TO TANGO, guys, is especially worrisome. (Not that I want you threatening Adrien with bodily harm either, but Jesus Christ, people.)
> 
> Look, I don’t care what you ship. Do you, have fun. But the minute you start attacking a character because you perceive her as a “shipwrecker” without knowing anything about her is the moment I have to don the “Mother is disappointed” attitude.
> 
> I never want to see these kinds of comments in my inbox again. It took me twice as long to write this chapter because you guys fucking SCARED me. When you reach that point, you need to chill the fuck out.
> 
> So do that. Please chill. PLEASE.
> 
> ~Reyna

‘ _No, it can’t be…that isn’t_ Lila, _is it?_ ’

Marinette squinted at the woman at the top of the stairs.

‘ _…No. Even if it’s been years, I’d recognize her immediately if I saw her. Besides, she was taller than me. Even if she hadn’t grown at all, we’d be the same height by now. So then, who is she? A cousin? A friend? Or_ —’

“The extra towels are in the wardrobe in the guest room, Eri,” Adrien suddenly spoke, startling Marinette out of her rapid analysis of the wet, bare woman. She glanced over, finding him smiling up at the woman, though the action appeared rather awkward. The woman he called Eri made a similar facial expression.

“Ah, I see. Thank you. Um, excuse me…”

As the mystery woman disappeared, Marinette settled her gaze on Adrien, whose shoulders were slightly hunched, like he had done something wrong, and expected to be scolded for it. She raised her eyebrows at him.

“Uh…do you want to come in?” He offered, waving a hand as he gestured within the house. Marinette stared at him, realizing she needed a minute to process that question. Hmm. _Did_ she want to come in…?

Adrien met her gaze unflinchingly, his eyes earnest and apologetic. Marinette couldn’t fathom whatever it was he needed to be sorry about—didn’t _want_ to fathom it—but the fact that he wasn’t stumbling to make explanations had to count for _something,_ didn’t it?

Marinette forced herself to take a deep breath.

‘ _Stay calm. There’s a rational explanation for all this…there_ has _to be. Adrien isn’t a cheater._ ’

That’s what she believed, anyway…but if they weren’t even officially in a relationship… _could_ it still be considered cheating, if he slept with someone else…?

Marinette swallowed. If this was what she feared it was…what would she do…?

“Marinette…?”

Adrien’s voice was coaxing, concerned. Marinette made herself close her eyes and breathe deeply once again. She had no idea what was going on here, but it seemed that Adrien was willing enough to explain. So what would she do? Fly off the handle over something she was only twenty-five percent sure had happened, or go inside so they could talk this out like rational adults?

‘ _Duh,_ ’ Marinette reasoned to herself with an inward roll of her eyes. She was a grown woman, after all. This was a no-brainer.

“Sure,” Marinette answered at last, returning Adrien’s relieved grin with a small smile. As she stepped inside, Adrien closed the door behind her and led the way to the living room, Marinette’s gaze lingering on the top of the staircase for one moment before she followed.

The large television screen was broadcasting the news channel, the anchors discussing the hottest issue in Paris: the return of Chat Noir. Marinette scowled at the T.V. screen as the anchors discussed the pros and cons (mostly the cons) of having a hero like Chat Noir back on the streets.

“…and how can we trust him? Ladybug says she believes him, but she could easily be fooled, couldn’t she?”

“Not to mention they were probably an item at one point or another, so it’s hard to let go of someone you once loved—”

Abruptly, the power to the T.V. shut off. Marinette blinked, and then let out a sigh of relief, turning to Adrien, who was holding the remote.

“Thank you,” she sighed, sinking down onto a corner of the couch. Adrien chuckled, sitting down beside her as he placed the remote down on the coffee table.

“Sick of the media coverage featuring Chat Noir lately?”

“It’s not the media coverage, it’s the media itself,” Marinette harrumphed, scowling again at the blank T.V. screen, her arms folded across her chest. “If Ladybug says it’s fine, then it’s fine! But everyone seems to have an opinion, acting like they know Chat Noir better than his own partner does. It pisses me off.”

Adrien was regarding her in a strange way: it was like he was amused and trying to hide it, further evidenced by the hand he pressed to his mouth, as if to hide a growing smirk from view. Marinette narrowed her eyes at him, unsure of what to make of such an expression…but she decided to let it go for now. They shouldn’t be discussing Chat Noir at the moment, anyway.

“So,” she began, adopting a business-like tone as she crossed one leg over the other, raising an inquisitive eyebrow, “who’s Eri?”

The amusement in Adrien’s expression faded.

“Ah, yeah.” He cleared his throat, turning to fully face Marinette on the couch. “Her name’s Erika Soriano. She’s a friend of mine, from back when I was living in Milan.”

“Oh. So she came to visit? That’s nice.” Marinette paused. “You didn’t mention anything about having a guest over…”

“She sprung this visit on me,” Adrien admitted with a slight cringe. “That’s why I cancelled our meeting yesterday morning, sorry. I wanted to explain, but Eri’s never seen Paris before, so—”

“So I insisted he show me around until I was satisfied,” said a new voice, and Marinette glanced up to find Erika Soriano in the doorway of the living room, now properly clothed in jeans and a form-fitting beige shirt, her thick hair tied back and piled atop her head, curling as it dried. She was adorable, Marinette decided, frowning at the thought. Still, she reminded herself not to make any snap judgments about this woman, because she didn’t know her. And Marinette knew what they said about people who assumed…

As Erika approached, a slight bounced in her step, her smile became apologetic.

“Please excuse me for my appearance earlier. I did not know Adrien was expecting company.”

Her French was very proper, Marinette noticed. Idly, she wondered how long she had been studying.

“I wasn’t,” Adrien admitted, giving Erika a knowing look as she rounded the coffee table, sitting down on his other side; he scooted closer to Marinette to give his friend more room. “But it looks like you’re not the only one with a habit of dropping by unannounced.”

Erika stuck out her tongue, grinning a moment later as she leaned around Adrien, eyes bright with interest.

“But you have not properly introduced us yet, Adrien! Tell me, is this the famous Marinette I have heard so much about?”

“The very same,” Adrien confessed, pride surging through his voice, as if Marinette was something to show off. She flushed under his grin, clearing her throat to halt the silly smile that twitched at the corners of her mouth, threatening to give way.

“Hi, I’m Marinette,” Marinette introduced herself, raising a hand to shake, her smile polite. “It’s very nice to meet—oof!”

Erika, it appeared, was not one for formalities—bypassing Marinette’s hand completely, she lunged forward with a hearty hug that nearly knocked the breath out of Marinette.

“It is so good to finally meet you!” Erika enthused, pulling back only to grin toothily at Marinette. There was so much… _joy_ in her expression, as if nothing could have delighted her more than to make Marinette’s acquaintance. Marinette smiled back uncertainly, thrown off by such enthusiasm. She had just officially met this woman, and yet here Erika was, thrilled to bits, as if she was meeting a celebrity. In the back of her mind, Marinette wondered just what Adrien had been telling Erika about her to make her look like that…

“Uh…it’s nice to meet you, too…” Casting about for something to say, Marinette’s eyes fixed on a choker around Erika’s neck, something she hadn’t noticed until just now, since it was the same color as Erika’s skin tone, save for the glittering green opal set in the middle. “Uh, I like your necklace.”

“Oh, thank you,” Erika replied, leaning back with a hand to the choker, her smile softening. “It was a gift from a very dear friend.”

Unable to help it, Marinette’s gaze flickered over to Adrien, who was currently being smooshed into the couch, due to Erika leaning over him. He caught her glance and blinked.

“Don’t look at me,” he said after taking a moment to interpret Marinette’s expression. “It must’ve been some other friend.”

“Aw, do not be jealous, _Luce del Sole,_ ” Erika teased, leaning back to sit properly, grinning at him, “I still have all of your presents as well.”

“ _Luce del Sole_?” Marinette questioned, frowning. That phrase was beyond her limited knowledge of the Italian language…

“Ah, it means…what is the word…oh, I remember: ‘sunshine’,” Erika filled her in.

Ah. Sunshine, huh? Fitting…

“It was better than _stella_ ,” Adrien said, his smile warm as he gazed down at Erika, who grinned toothily at him.

“Indeed: stars shine bright even after they pass, but the sun is eternal. Much more fitting.”

“You flatter me,” Adrien said, and Erika’s grin widened. Watching them interact was very sweet, Marinette had to admit.

So sweet, in fact…that it almost felt like…

“Did you two used to date?”

The question popped out of her mouth before Marinette could pause and decide whether or not she wanted to know the answer. But it was too late, the words were out…and as Adrien and Erika turned to her with wide eyes, both flushing dark red, Marinette had her answer, ready or not.

And to say that she was conflicted about it was pretty accurate.

“Oh…yes, that is true. Once, we were together…b-but that was a long time ago!” Erika rushed to assure her, as if worried about what Marinette might think. When Marinette said nothing, she raised a hand, making a flapping gesture, expression flustered. “We are only friends now, I swear to you! He is now more like my brother! I will always love him, yes, but it is not _that_ kind of love—”

“Eri,” Adrien cut in after a moment, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving her a look that was equal parts amused and concerned, “breathe.”

Erika did as she was asked, exhaling slowly, a hand to her chest, her eyes closed as she slowly inhaled and exhaled once again.

“Okay…okay. I am calm. Sorry,” she apologized, cringing with her eyes still closed. Laughing, Adrien patted her head, much like an older brother would do with his younger sister.

“It’s fine. I know how you get.”

Erika blinked her eyes open, focusing on Marinette, looking contrite.

“I apologize for being overexcited,” she said, giving an awkward smile. “I do not wish you to worry. Adrien is my good friend, and I am so very happy for him for finding you. You should see how he lights up when he speaks about you—”

“Eri,” Adrien interrupted once again, and Marinette was faintly amused to see the flush spreading through his face as he rubbed the back of his neck. “She doesn’t need to know all that…”

“Oh, but she must know how you adore her!” Erika insisted, turning wide brown eyes onto Adrien. “How else would she know how you speak about her when she is not around?” Turning quickly to Marinette, her eyes shining, Erika began to ramble at top speed: “Do you know he has your birthday memorized and is planning a _big_ surprise for you when it comes? He told me he has been thinking about it for weeks now, even though your birthday is in the summer, is it not? And when we were out sightseeing today, he included everything you had to say about this lovely city, like which landmarks are your favorite, and funny stories about you and your friends at certain shops and restaurants. Oh, and he often stopped to browse the flowers we passed because he knows your favorite color is pink and he was wondering which flowers you prefer—”

“Erika!” Adrien protested, his face completely red at this point as he slapped a hand over his friend’s mouth. “Shh!”

But it was too late; he could do nothing to take the words back. Marinette had heard everything.

And all she could do was laugh.

“Ahahaha! Hahaha, y-you’re so cute, Adrien,” she breathed, covering her mouth with a hand as she giggled. Adrien flushed darker, pouting a little.

“Cute is for puppies,” he grumbled, and Marinette grinned, ruffling his hair.

“Then you make a very cute puppy,” she teased as Adrien went into full pout mode, which did nothing to help his case. As he set about fixing his mussed hair while continuing to deny the ‘cute’ accusations, his blush only growing, Marinette noticed Erika’s expression. Her eyes were focused on Adrien, her hands clasped to her chest, a glowing warmth radiating from her as she watched him. If it wasn’t clear to Marinette before, it certainly was now: Erika loved Adrien, with all her heart. Even watching him become flustered due to another woman’s attention, she seemed so pleased just to see him happy. That look spoke volumes, way more than Erika herself could have ever expressed…although she certainly tried, with the chatter that spilled from her just a moment ago.

Erika glanced over, her eyes widening when she realized Marinette was watching her. She hastened to smile again, and then stood up.

“Well! I am, how you say, ‘in the way’, am I not? I will give you two time alone.”

“Oh, that isn’t necessary—”

“I insist,” Erika said, pointing an imperious finger at Marinette, a spark of mischief appearing in her otherwise sweet expression. “I may be visiting, but I am not here to interrupt Adrien’s life. So I will get out of your way. Good night!”

And before Marinette could utter another word of protest, Erika flounced out of the room. After a beat of silence, Adrien gave an awkward laugh.

“She’s something, huh?” He said, and Marinette glanced back at him, finding him smiling a little, the red not quite gone from his face. Marinette smiled.

“I like her.” Her smile evolved into a grin. “She seems really pleased that you talk about me a lot.”

Adrien gave a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as red flooded his face once more.

“Yeah, well…” He didn’t appear to have anywhere else to go with that sentence; he cleared his throat and moved on. “So yeah. She’s just a friend who’s staying with me for the week.” His gaze grew earnest as he looked at Marinette. “That’s all that’s going on. I promise.”

“I believe you,” Marinette assured him, smiling when relief flooded Adrien’s face. So what if he happened to have a female friend staying with him? And so what if they technically had a history? It didn’t mean that anything was going on _now_. Besides, Marinette could usually tell when Adrien was lying anyway, so if he said Erika was only a friend, then she was just that: a friend.

“Thank you,” Adrien said fervently, moving forward to embrace Marinette. She let out an involuntary giggle when he nosed at her neck, inhaling deeply.

“Mmm…you smell good…”

“Down, boy,” Marinette teased him, wriggling out of his grasp and grinning up at him. “You have company, remember?”

“Company that just gave us space and privacy…” Adrien pointed out, but Marinette tapped his nose to discourage him. He wrinkled and rubbed at it, and Marinette giggled at the familiar gesture…hmm…it was very familiar, in fact…

“No,” she discouraged, even when Adrien gave another pout, his eyes beseeching. “I’d feel strange fooling around with you when you have a guest from out of the country staying over. Those flight tickets aren’t cheap.”

Adrien gave a sigh, sitting back, as if he needed the space as a buffer.

“I guess you’re right…and I haven’t actually seen her in years. She went to study in America around the time we were going off to university, so this is my first time seeing her in a while—”

“So what’re you still doing down here with me?” Marinette teased with a grin, getting to her feet. “Go spend time with your friend. Oh, and be sure to bring her to ice cream on Friday, so Alya and Nino can meet her, too. I think they’d like her.”

Adrien frowned, rising as well and following Marinette out to the foyer.

“You think so?”

Marinette gave him an easy shrug and a smile.

“It’s kind of hard not to. She’s really sweet.” She reached for the door handle. “Sorry for disturbing you when you have a guest over—”

A hand closed over hers before she could get the door open. Marinette glanced over her shoulder, about to ask what Adrien was doing—

Adrien leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers. In that moment, Marinette forgot that she was supposed to be leaving, and her original intention for visiting him resurfaced, nudging her into his awaiting arms, a warm, tingling feeling spreading through her as he kissed her—

‘ _THIS IS DANGEROUS,_ ’ her mind warned, and Marinette worked to heed it, drawing back from the kisses that threatened to become heated if she wasn’t careful.

“I gotta go,” she sighed, pressing her fingertips to Adrien’s lips when he leaned down, intending to kiss her again. His brow puckered, and she giggled at the pouty look once again. “Oh come on. You act like I’m never going to kiss you again.”

“Mari—” Adrien breathed, her name practically a whine of longing. The look in his eyes as he gazed down at her made Marinette shiver, but she stood her ground, reaching behind her for the handle of the door as she held him at bay.

“I’ll see you later,” she insisted, only allowing one more quick kiss before she stepped out of range, giving him a smile before she pulled the door shut behind her. Marinette hurried down the stairs and walkway, throwing herself past the gate before she shut it behind her and leaned against it for a second, catching her breath. Oh dear…she hadn’t realized how difficult it was to _not_ fool around with Adrien, once they got started. It was different when they were out in public with their friends, easy to remember that they were meant to behave…but when it was just the two of them, in a big, empty house—

‘ _Mostly empty_ ,’ Marinette corrected herself sternly. That’s right—Adrien had a guest staying with him this week, a friend he hadn’t seen in a long time. It would be wrong for Marinette to take advantage of Adrien when he had a guest staying over…a guest that willingly excused herself to give them privacy…

‘ _There was probably a limit to that kindness,_ ’ Marinette reasoned, shaking her head and pushing off from the gate, moving to her car. ‘ _I doubt she’d appreciate it if I didn’t let Adrien leave the couch all night…_ ’

Oh well. Maybe next time.

 

* * *

 

After two nights in her apartment passed without incident, Marinette cautiously let herself hope that that _thing_ that had snuck up on her a couple weeks ago was no longer targeting her for mysterious reasons all its own. Tikki still seemed concerned about it, but as February rolled in with wet and windy weather, Marinette turned her attention onto more important things: the deadline for Desiree’s contest was in _twenty days,_ and needless to say, Marinette was panicking.

All her predesigned outfits were finished: Chat Noir’s inspired outfit hung in the center of her studio, her pride and joy, flanked by the dresses for the Peacock and Bee Miraculous, the jumpsuit for the Fox Miraculous, and there was even an outfit inspired by Emerald Shell, the centerpiece a sleeveless green hoodie with the design of Emerald Shell’s shield on the back. (Marinette had had Alya model this outfit to test out its unisex appeal, and it was very entertaining to see just how ruddy Nino turned the longer she strutted around in it.)

The only thing that remained was the very last outfit Marinette could put off no longer—the outfit for Ladybug.

It was this goal in mind that pushed Marinette to the fabric store, dragging Alya along to help her keep her sanity as she fretted over her fabric decisions.

“How’re you gonna pick fabric if you don’t know what outfit you’re gonna make yet?” Alya questioned. Marinette could feel her eyes following her as she dashed back and forward through the aisles, picking up anything red or black that she could lay her hands on.

“Uh, I don’t know…” Marinette mumbled, scowling at a scrap of fabric she held, wondering where the rest of it was. “Maybe I’ll know when I see the right fabric!”

She could practically feel Alya shaking her head at her, but Marinette didn’t care; she was much too busy trying to decide between satin and chiffon, mentally noting that the Ladybug outfit had to be just as casual as the others, and that silk-based fabrics did not a casual outfit make, especially when she had done all she could to hold herself back from using such fabric in the design of the Peacock dress—

“So, this girl that’s staying with Adrien—”

Aaaaaand here Alya went again.

“They’re _just friends,_ Alya,” Marinette said again, dropping the red satin and chiffon fabrics back where she found them with a sigh. No fancy fabrics. She could not show the Ladybug design special treatment; people might get suspicious.

“Just friends who used to _date_ ,” Alya clucked again, and Marinette turned wearily to see the disapproving expression on her best friend’s face, her arms folded. “Why isn’t she staying in a hotel like a proper friend visiting from out of the country?”

Marinette shook her head. Now Alya was just being ridiculous.

“Would you honestly make a friend from out of country pay for a hotel when you have more than enough room in a house that big?”

“…” As Alya struggled to poke a hole in that logic, Marinette returned her attention to her fabric hunt, pausing only when Alya gave a huff. “Okay, fine, I’ll give you that, but still! He should’ve said something! What if you had gone over there in nothing but an overcoat and lingerie or something?”

Marinette snorted, feeling her face go as scarlet as the fabric she was inspecting.

“Yeah, like _I_ would do that.”

“Mm, you’re right, waaay too subtle—better to just tie a big bow around your body and ask him to slowly unwrap you like a present—”

“Are you trying to live vicariously through me or something?” Marinette demanded to know, straightening up and staring at her best friend in a bewildered fashion. Alya gave her a smirk.

“Why would I do that? _I’m_ actually getting laid,” she pointed out, and Marinette huffed, diving back into the fabric bin she was half submerged in. “This is more like I’m giving your sexual frustration a voice.”

“Well,” grumbled Marinette, mostly to herself as she sorted through assorted fabrics, “you probably have a point there…”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Well, anyway, I still don’t like it. I know you two aren’t _together_ -together or whatever, but—”

“Alya,” Marinette cut in, straightening up again to give her best friend a look, “I trust him. Isn’t that enough?”

“It’s not Adrien I’m worried about.” Alya fixed Marinette with a concerned expression. “I know this girl _says_ she’s over Adrien, but is she really?”

Marinette frowned. She didn’t want to consider the idea that Erika might be lying about this thing between her and Adrien being in the past…she had been so sincere when she tried to assure Marinette there was nothing to worry about…

“Even if she’s not,” Marinette began, biting her lip, “does it matter? Adrien and I…well, we’re… _something._ Just because Erika’s visiting doesn’t mean he’s going to go back to her.”

“I wouldn’t bet on her not saying anything if she _isn’t_ over him,” Alya said darkly, fixing Marinette with a significant look. “I’ve seen how hard it is to get over Adrien Agreste firsthand.”

Okay, now _that_ was just a low blow.

“I was _fourteen,_ Alya. In other words, I was too young to properly handle heartbreak for the first time. But as I keep saying, that was a _long time ago,_ and I’ve grown up.” Marinette put her hands on her hips, scowling at Alya amidst the mess of fabric around her. “So would you please _stop_ treating me like a child when it comes to my love life and trust that I know what I’m doing?”

“…” At Marinette’s serious expression, Alya sighed in defeat. “…All right, all right. I’ll shut up. …But I’m still gonna remind _Monsieur_ Agreste about that favor he owes me.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to fabric hunting. She supposed she was lucky to have a best friend who cared so much…but honestly, Alya just needed to calm down sometimes; constantly making mountains out of molehills was going to kill her one day.

“Just be nice to Erika, okay? I think Adrien’s going to bring her to Francoise’s tomorrow, so wait until you meet her before you make any judgements, all right?”

“I promise nothing…” Marinette gave Alya a pleading look, and Alya groaned. “Oh, Mari, no, that’s cheating! …Ugh, _fine._ I’ll reserve judgment. For now.”

Marinette shook her head to herself and smiled. That was the best she was going to get out of Alya, she supposed. Nino would be cool, of course—he always was—so all there was left to worry about was Erika herself, and whether or not she would feel comfortable with them. But Marinette wasn’t worried—she seemed like a sweetheart, so getting along with their group would be a cinch for Erika.

…Well, Marinette hoped so, in any case.

 

* * *

 

“She’s late,” Alya grumped, folding her arms and tapping her foot impatiently as they waited outside of Francoise’s. Marinette wished she would stop pointing that out—Adrien looked worried enough already.

“Maybe she got lost,” Nino suggested, not helping manners. “Paris _is_ confusing for first-timers…”

“Why didn’t you escort her here, Agreste?” Alya demanded to know, and Adrien sighed, running a hand through his perfect hair.

“She insisted on doing some shopping without me, and said she’d meet me here,” he explained, his brows creased with concern as he checked his phone for the umpteenth time, but Marinette could see that there were no new messages from Erika. “I hope she’s okay…”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Marinette assured him with a reassuring pat to his arm. “Let’s give her another minute or two, okay? If she doesn’t show up then, we’ll split up and help you look for her.”

Adrien let out a sigh, smiling slightly at Marinette through his apprehension.

“Thanks, Mari,” he said softly, reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze. Marinette smiled and returned the gesture, wanting to say more to console him—

“Ah, there he is! Adrien, hello! Look who I ran into!”

Marinette turned, smiling in relief at the sound of Erika’s voice—

Her expression froze awkwardly on her face when she spotted, not only Erika, dressed like a model in her designer winter outfit, hefting around significantly less bags than Marinette was expecting, but also the man she dragged along behind her…a tall blonde man who was looking distinctly awkward…

Felix.

There was a short intake of breath next to her. Marinette glanced over at Adrien, who was watching Erika approach with Felix in tow with a strange sort of tension present in his expression. That tension was mirrored in Felix’s face as well, Marinette couldn’t help but notice; it became more obvious the closer he got. Marinette felt her hackles rise with his approach as well, but she reminded herself to be cool. No need to make this awkward moment any more unpleasant just because Felix gave her the creeps…

Erika seemed not to notice the atmosphere, however; she was all smiles as she bounded forward, grinning up at Adrien.

“I am sorry for my lateness! I think maybe I took a wrong turn? But luckily, I met Felix, and he agreed to help me!”

Felix glanced away from Erika’s smile, as if it troubled him to look at her. The pressure of the silent atmosphere was stifling, alleviated only when Adrien cleared his throat.

“Felix,” he greeted politely.

Felix consented to give him his gaze for a moment; Marinette scowled when those cool blue eyes rested briefly on her before moving on to Adrien.

“Adrien,” Felix replied, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, though Adrien showed no signs of offering to shake hands, anyway. Erika’s face, glowing just a moment ago, fell at the obvious coolness between the two, which piqued Marinette’s curiosity. Why did she get the feeling that she was missing something here…?

“How do you two know each other?” Marinette wanted to know, sending a sidelong suspicious glance Felix’s way. Felix merely raised an eyebrow at her, and Adrien looked uncomfortable, but it was Erika who answered.

“But do you not know?” She asked, blinking her wide dark eyes in surprise. “Adrien and Felix are cousins!”

“Cousins?!” Marinette squawked without meaning to, glancing in between them in rapid succession. No way…there was _no way_ Adrien was related to someone like _Felix_ …

But then Adrien raised an eyebrow, as if to inquire just what she was protesting to, and Marinette abruptly saw the family resemblance.

“Problem?” Felix inquired loftily, his own raised eyebrow climbing higher. Marinette narrowed her eyes at him.

“Your last name isn’t Agreste…” She _definitely_ would have remembered if that had been the case.

“That’s because neither of my parents were ever Agrestes. My mother and Adrien’s mother were sisters,” Felix explained coolly. “Again, problem?”

Marinette scowled at him. She’d like to give him a problem, all right…

Nino, apparently sensing that tempers were about to boil over, carefully stepped in front of Marinette, as if to shield her from view.

“Well, it was nice seeing you, cousin,” he said cheerfully. “Thanks for delivering the Maserati heiress to us. We’ll send you a check in the mail.”

Marinette glanced around Nino just in time to catch Felix’s deadpan expression before he turned on his heel and strode away, nearly as graceful as Adrien, though Marinette was certain that he had never set foot on a runway…perhaps natural grace was a family trait…

“Maserati heiress?” Marinette heard Alya question after a moment; she turned to see her best friend eyeing Erika up and down, sizing her up.

“Yeah—Erika’s a descendent of the dude who slapped his name on those fancy cars in Italy,” Nino explained, turning and giving Erika a wink. “We’re in the presence of automobile royalty, here.”

Erika giggled in a nervous manner, her face growing red.

“You flatter me,” she said, though she looked rather flustered, picking at the cuff of her sleeve. Alya asked how Nino already knew so much about Erika, and Nino went into this long-winded story about his shopping adventures from yesterday with Adrien and Erika. Marinette tuned out around the part at the pet store where they had to talk Adrien out of an exotic pet to have some company around the house; they were all heading into Francoise’s, except for Adrien and Erika, who were still standing in front of the shop and having a muted conversation in Italian. Erika looked anxious, but Adrien shook his head with a smile, patting her head.

“ _Va bene. Non hai fatto niente di male,_ ” Adrien said quietly when Erika continued to look troubled.

“ _Pero…_ ” Erika glanced over, finding Marinette still standing there. Marinette was too slow to look away and disguise the fact that she was eavesdropping, even if she had no idea what was being said, and Erika looked away before she could, giving Adrien a strained smile.

“You go in with your friends,” she insisted, abruptly switching to French; Marinette had a funny feeling it was for her benefit. “I will be just a moment: I want to call Papa and tell him that I am fine. Shoo,” she added with an accompanying gesture when Adrien opened his mouth, clearly meaning to argue.

Adrien gave her a troubled look, but when Erika continued to wave him away, he sighed and conceded, turning to find Marinette still waiting there.

“Uh…shall we?” Adrien asked, pulling the door open and waiting for Marinette to enter before him. Marinette turned, ready to head in…but something nagged at her, pausing her steps. With a quick glance at Erika, who was fiddling with her phone, Marinette turned to give Adrien a smile.

“Why don’t you go on? Keep Alya and Nino from getting too gross at the table. I’ll catch up in a minute.”

Adrien blinked, apparently uncomprehending.

“But…”

He trailed off when Marinette stretched up and kissed his cheek, the simple gesture painting his face red.

“I’ll only be a minute,” Marinette promised, nudging him in the door. “Go on.”

“Excuse me, but if you’re coming in, come in already!” Francoise called from behind the counter, looking irate. “You’re letting the heat out!”

Adrien ducked his head, his shoulders hunching.

“Sorry,” he apologized, giving Marinette one last confused glance before he finally headed inside, shutting the door behind him. Marinette watched as he caught up with Nino and Alya, and then turned, carefully approaching Erika, who seemed to show no signs of calling anyone, despite what she told Adrien. She was merely staring blankly at the lock screen of her phone when she seemed to feel Marinette approach; she glanced up in surprise, and Marinette gave her a smile.

“Hi,” she greeted pleasantly, planting her feet next to the Maserati heiress. “How’s Paris been treating you so far?”

“Oh, it has been delightful,” Erika enthused with a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. “Though I think Papa might be a little upset over all the shopping I did…but I will jump off of that bridge when I get to it, I think.”

“Cross the bridge,” Marinette corrected gently, and red bloomed in Erika’s face.

“Oh…yes…crossing the bridge…thank you…”

She trailed off, her expression becoming dejected. Marinette chewed her bottom lip for a moment before speaking.

“Is…everything all right?”

Erika let out a short huff and murmured something Marinette didn’t catch…though the vehemence with which it was spoken made her feel like it might’ve been an Italian curse.

“I am an idiot,” Erika said abruptly, turning her gaze skyward, the clouds that obscured the sun seeming to reflect in her eyes. “I do not know why I thought things would be different just because they are in Paris together…”

Marinette rested her back against the wall next to Erika, folding her hands in front of her.

“You’re talking about Adrien and…Felix?”

“Yes,” Erika huffed, flipping long, dark hair out of her face in an exaggerated fashion…though she still managed to make it look fashionable. Marinette idly wondered if Erika herself ever considered a career in modeling. “I knew they were not close when we all still lived in Milan, but still…he is so happy here…I had hoped that things with his family were better now…”

As Erika twirled a strand of hair through her fingers, frowning at nothing, Marinette watched her, an uncomfortable feeling swirling in her chest. Something just occurred to her: here was a woman who knew Adrien in a way Marinette never would. Erika knew Adrien when he was grappling with the loss and sins of his father, raised by faceless strangers Marinette did not know, for he never talked about them. The only reason she now knew that Adrien and Felix were cousins was because of the woman beside her. Erika, and Erika alone, would have a piece of Adrien that Marinette never would, simply because she knew that hidden side of him…and Marinette _hated_ herself for coveting that. She shouldn’t be jealous over this. It was childish to be so.

…And yet…

“Adrien never talks about his life in Milan,” Marinette confided quietly. It was her turn to turn her gaze away, though she felt Erika’s eyes on her; she watched the street instead, as cars drove by and the clouds shifted above, indecisive about whether to rain or not. “He changes the subject whenever someone brings it up.”

Carefully, Marinette glanced over to Erika, hazarding a small smile.

“The way you talk, though…I’m guessing he didn’t have a very happy life there.”

Erika watched Marinette for a long, measured moment, her lips pursed thoughtfully.

“…No,” she replied at last, “he did not.”

Marinette’s smile turned into a cringe.

“Isn’t it stupid that I’m a little jealous of you for being there for him when he needed support the most?”

Erika blinked.

“It _is_ stupid,” she said rather bluntly, though she looked so innocent doing it that Marinette had to laugh a little. “You hold his heart, Marinette. Do you not see that? His past does not matter when he is with you.”

“Hmm,” Marinette hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head to the side as she glanced away. “I don’t know about that…”

“It is true,” Erika insisted, taking Marinette’s wrist. Marinette blinked at the touch, her gaze returning to Erika’s face, where a low level hum of tension was just discernable. “You should see how he speaks of you! When he speaks your name, he _glows,_ Marinette. Truly, he becomes _luce del sole_ when you are in his thoughts. And he is beautiful.”

Marinette felt herself go rather warm. True, within her own thoughts, she liked to think Adrien sung her praises, but that was within the privacy of her own mind. Hearing such things confirmed _out loud_ was more than embarrassing.

Erika’s grip on her wrist suddenly tightened, and the anxiousness of her gaze intensified.

“You will…not hurt him, yes?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she anxiously inspected Marinette. “Please, Marinette. He has been through so much—more than I could ever know, in fact. It has been so long since I have seen him so happy…but I am afraid for him. He is so very breakable…more than he would like to admit.”

Marinette was alarmed when tears suddenly pricked Erika’s eyes, as if the thought of seeing Adrien hurt was killing her. She really _did_ love him, didn’t she?

“You will not hurt him, Marinette, yes? Will you swear to me? Please?”

The fervor of Erika’s request seized Marinette’s heart, squeezing tight. She cared so much about him, and only wanted to see him happy…but was Alya right after all? Despite what she said to the contrary, was Erika still _in_ love with Adrien as well? Someone as sweet as her, who begged so passionately for Marinette not to hurt the man she loved…

How was Marinette supposed to feel about this?

The bell to the gelato shop gave a jingle, and Marinette jumped, glancing over to find Adrien stepping out, peering at her and Erika with some concern.

“Uh…is everything all right out here?”

“Fine,” Marinette was quick to assure him, feeling Erika’s grip on her wrist slide away. “We’re just talking.”

“Okay…” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “But Alya’s getting antsy. Apparently, she thinks it’s a cardinal sin to order anything without you present.”

Marinette rolled her eyes.

“I’m supposed to be keeping track of her calorie intake for the diet she’s supposedly starting,” Marinette explained with a slight smirk. “It’s the ‘tomorrow’ diet: always a day away.”

Adrien chuckled at that.

“Ha ha. Well, like I said, she refuses to order without you, so…”

“I’m coming, I’m coming…” Marinette took a step forward before she remembered Erika, turning to give her a kind smile…or she tried. Erika’s face was averted, staring at the ground, and so she missed it. “Erika? Are you coming? You should try the gelato here, it’s delicious.”

Slowly, Erika lifted her gaze, and gave them a wide smile. It was too wide, as if she was working to hide her true feelings behind it. Marinette frowned at the sight, wondering if it was a bad habit inherited from Adrien.

“You two go on,” Erika insisted, folding her arms around her, her hands cupping her elbows. “I am not quite hungry enough for gelato yet…I think…I think I will take a short walk, and then I will join you.”

“Erika—” Marinette and Adrien began at the same time, but Erika shook her head and waved them off, still smiling that too-wide smile.

“Do not worry, I will be sure not to get lost this time. Go on! I will just be a few minutes.”

Before either Marinette or Adrien could think of anything to say, Erika turned and quickly disappeared around the corner. Marinette took a step forward, half her mind made up to go after her, but she was stalled by Adrien’s hand taking hers.

“Marinette,” he began, and Marinette turned to see him frowning in concern, “what happened?”

Marinette blinked at him. How on earth did she answer that question when even she wasn’t exactly sure what had just occurred…?

“I’m…not sure,” she confessed, her brow furrowing to match Adrien’s. “We were talking…and it was kind of an important conversation…but then you showed up…”

Adrien cringed.

“What did I interrupt?”

Marinette felt red surge to her face.

“Um…I’d rather that stay between me and Erika.” At Adrien’s frown, she added, “But it wasn’t like we were having an unpleasant conversation. It was just…some things that needed to be said on her part, I guess.”

“You’re scaring me,” Adrien admitted, his green eyes searching Marinette’s face. “What—”

“Hey!”

The door to Francoise’s burst open again, and now Alya stood there, looking irritated and ignoring Francoise’s impatient clucks.

“Are we here to have ice cream or what? What’re you two waiting for?”

“Erika just went off by herself,” Marinette explained, turning again to glance at the corner the Maserati heiress had just disappeared around. “I was thinking of going after her.”

“What happened?” Alya wanted to know, her brow furrowing.

Before Marinette could launch into any more vague explanations, however, Francoise stomped over, glaring at the three of them.

“ _Listen._ I appreciate your business here, but if you three do _not_ stop storming through here like it’s a barnyard, I will ban you from my shop! Now what will it be? In, or out?”

Alya looked to Marinette, who looked to Adrien, who had closed his eyes and was apparently thinking very hard about something. After a moment or two, he sighed, slowly opening his eyes to glance at the corner where Erika had disappeared before his gaze switched to Marinette, and then to Francoise.

“In,” he announced, and he moved to hold the door open for Alya and Marinette, the latter pausing to wait for him as he shut the door behind him.

“Are you sure?” She asked in a low voice, biting her lip anxiously. The frown did not leave Adrien’s face, which made Marinette worry. He probably thought she had said something to upset his friend, and was now thinking that she was the kind of girl that was so insecure that she had to ward off his female friends in order to feel confident, even though they weren’t even officially dating—

Adrien slid an arm around her waist, leading her forward.

“…Erika’s the type that likes to suffer in silence,” Adrien remarked, his gaze focused on Alya as she joined Nino at their claimed table. “If she needs a few minutes, she needs a few minutes. She’ll be back.”

Marinette glanced back behind them at the large window looking out onto the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of Erika hurrying back, but no dice.

“But…”

As she struggled to come up with a reason to chase after Erika, she glanced up, finding Adrien’s gaze on her. It was inscrutable for a brief moment…before giving way to a soft smile.

“Thank you for worrying,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to the side of Marinette’s temple, making her blush. “Tell you what: we’ll give her five minutes. If she isn’t back by then, we’ll track her down. Deal?”

“Deal,” Marinette agreed, returning Adrien’s smile if only to assure him; behind those pearly whites, she could tell he was worried, too.

“Where’d Erika go?” Nino wanted to know, blinking in surprise when he noticed there were only two when there should have been three.

“For a walk,” Adrien replied, saving Marinette the trouble. “She wanted to be alone for a minute.”

Nino frowned.

“Everything okay?”

Adrien shrugged in response, though his expression was nowhere near as relaxed as the gesture.

“If it’s not, we’ll go after her in about four minutes.” Adrien frowned. “Erika doesn’t like being cornered; she has this habit of disappearing when anyone tries to get her to do something before she’s ready.”

“But if she gets lost again—”

“Then we’ll go find her,” Marinette assured him, though Nino did not appear appeased.

“Why don’t we just go now? The longer we wait, the more lost she could get—”

“Guys,” Alya interrupted, and Marinette glanced over to find her best friend frowning down at her phone. When she consented to glance up, her expression was grim.

“You’re gonna want to see this…”

She set her phone down in the middle of the table, and heads crowded in to watch what appeared to be a news broadcast. The familiar face of Nadja Chamack was speaking urgently into her microphone, though her voice was too low; Marinette reached over to tap the volume button a few times, and Mrs. Chamack’s voice came out stronger:

“—just a moment ago. The akuma’s demands have not yet been made clear, but—eeeek!”

Marinette’s heart jumped into her throat as the camera feed suddenly cut out, but just for a split-second, she noticed a figure in a garish pink dress storm by, dark hair piled under a ridiculous-looking tiara…

She, Adrien, and Nino stood up at the same time.

“I have to go,” they said in unison, and then blinked in surprise, eyeing each other nervously. Slowly, Alya rose to her feet, surveying them with raised eyebrows. Marinette cringed, prepared to be peppered with probing queries—

“You’re right,” Alya decided, and Marinette stared at her in surprise. What…no twenty questions?

Ignoring Marinette’s look, Alya continued.

“Erika’s out there somewhere, and there’s an akuma on the loose. We should go look for her.”

“Oh…right!” Nino agreed, nodding enthusiastically. “Uh, tell you what: I’ll go with Marinette in the direction Erika was heading last, and you two head in the opposite direction, just in case she got turned around somewhere, all right?”

“Sure,” Alya agreed easily enough. Adrien, however, looked less than pleased.

“Actually—”

“Thanks!” Marinette cut him off as she and Nino rushed out of the gelato shop, Francoise’s shout of frustration following them out the door.

“What did I _just_ tell you?!”

“We’re gonna have to leave a really big tip after this,” Nino acknowledged, keeping pace with Marinette easily as they raced around the corner and down the street.

“Never mind,” Marinette said, spying an abandoned alley that was just big enough for the both of them. “Come on!”

In the alley, kwamis were released from their hiding places, their powers invoked in the heroes’ quest to save the day. Super suits were snapped on, and Ladybug and Emerald Shell were on the scene, swinging and hovering their way around the city.

“So much for patrol tonight,” Emerald Shell called over the whip of the wind as he and Ladybug made their way through the streets, searching for the cause of trouble.

“Chat wouldn’t have been able to make it anyway,” Ladybug reminded him, pausing briefly on a rooftop to look around. “He’s busy with his ‘friend’ or whatever.”

She felt rather than saw Shell’s gaze on her.

“You sound a little bitter there, LB.”

“Shut up,” Ladybug snapped at him, shooting him a glare before she sent her yo-yo out again, intending to swing to the next checkpoint within her mind. “If you start again about Chat, I swear to god—”

“What about me?”

Ladybug jumped in surprise, nearly slipping off the roof before she was ready. A strong arm went around her waist just as her toes nearly cleared the edge, pulling her back into a well-muscled chest.

“Whoa,” a low voice cautioned, and Ladybug felt her pulse become erratic, jumping violently in her skin. “Are you okay, Ladybug?”

“F-fine,” Ladybug stuttered, stepping out of Chat Noir’s loose grip as soon as she was able. Avoiding his gaze, Ladybug said, “I, uh, thought you’d be busy today, Chat.”

“I managed to slip away for a moment or two.” Ladybug chanced a glance in his direction, but he was merely smiling slightly, a secret embedded in the corners of his lips. Ladybug looked away hastily, turning her back just as Chat greeted Shell.

“Nice to see you, Snapper.”

“…Snapper?”

The tone of Chat’s voice was too innocent as he replied, “What? You don’t like your new nickname? But I spent all night thinking up new ones for you! That one’s my favorite so far.”

‘ _Oh boy,_ ’ Ladybug thought, glancing over her shoulder to peek at Shell’s reaction. His expression was inscrutable at the moment, but Chat was nearly bouncing in place, his slight smile replaced by an eager grin as he awaited Shell’s reaction.

“Well, Snapper? How’s the nickname, Snapper? It’s not making you feel like _snapping,_ is it, Snapper?”

At last, after a moment of charged silence, Snapper—er, _Shell_ —opened his mouth to speak.

“Actually…it’s a lot cooler than Shelly,” he noted. Grinning, he reached up and patted Chat on his stiff shoulder. “Thanks, Catnip Brain.”

Ladybug bit her lip to keep from bursting out laughing, but it was hard, especially when Chat’s expression suggested that Christmas had just been cancelled. But the hilarity was interrupted by a terrified shriek, and Ladybug was brought back to reality with a resounding crash.

“We don’t have time for this,” she reminded the other two, tautening the wire of her yo-yo, ready to fly. “There’s an akuma loose, remember?”

“He started it,” Shell and Chat blamed each other in the same moment, and Ladybug huffed and rolled her eyes before she took off, swinging away and ignoring the yelps and cries behind her for her to wait for them. They wanted to act like children? Fine. But Ladybug had a job to do, and a limited amount of time to do it, so she was not here to screw around.

The heart-wrenching sobbing Ladybug was hearing grew closer, and she dropped down into the street, next to a woman who was weeping into her hands. The hair color suggested that it was Mrs. Chamack, and Ladybug approached her, putting aside past grievances with the reporter for the moment.

“There, there,” Ladybug soothed, crouching down next to Mrs. Chamack and patting her back. “Everything’s going to be a—aiyeeeeee!!!”

Ladybug stumbled back, staring in horror at Mrs. Chamack, who had just lifted her face, revealing— _nothing._

She _had_ no face. There was just a blank stretch of skin, though somehow, the wailing grew louder, and her hands started scrabbling, reaching blindly for help. Ladybug scooted back in horror, gaping at the faceless Mrs. Chamack. What the hell _happened_ here?!

“LB! Are you all—augh!” Shell yelped, jumping back on one foot once he spotted the monstrosity that was Mrs. Chamack. “What the hell—?!”

“Whoa!!” Chat cried, hissing when the faceless Mrs. Chamack drew too close to him. “The fuck kind of akuma did _this?!_ ”

There was sudden laughter behind them, and Ladybug whirled around, stretching her arms out protectively to shield Mrs. Chamack, as well as her teammates.

The woman standing before her was nearly being swallowed in a ball gown that looked like it might have been beautiful, once. But the bottom was shredded and splashed with mud, the pink color faded, though still outrageous. Long dark hair was piled atop her head, her curls coming undone, held in place only by a ridiculous tiara that was tarnished, missing jewels in some places, lackluster jewelry dotting her fingers, wrists, neck. In fact, the only thing that seemed pristine about the woman was her face: her make-up was perfect, her face calm and composed and beautiful…and _not hers._

Ladybug felt her mouth come open in horror, staring at Mrs. Chamack’s face on someone else’s body.

_This akuma was stealing faces._

“Greetings, Ladybug,” drawled the akuma with a supercilious accent, lifting her skirts to curtsy. “I am Beauty Queen. As you have noticed, I seek a face—the most beautiful face in Paris, for only that face would be worthy of me. This face is nice,” she said idly, whipping out a mirror from nowhere to inspect it, pursing her lips in speculation. “But I’ve just had a thought: wouldn’t the face of _Ladybug_ suit me much better? After all, no one knows the face behind the mask, do they? If I had your face, I would be the most sought-after woman in all of Paris! And then _he_ would come crawling right back to me...not that I’ll take him back right away, of course…he ought to be punished for his wandering eye…as if I’m not enough. Hmph!”

This rant made Ladybug squint at the akuma. No…it couldn’t be…could it? But they had only left her alone for a couple minutes! Surely she couldn’t have been akumatized _that_ quickly, could she?

There was a choker around the akuma’s neck. Ladybug cursed softly under her breath, leaning forward for a better look. If that was the same choker—

“Oh! So you understand my plight, Ladybug! How thoughtful of you to volunteer!”

Abruptly, Ladybug found herself faced with her own reflection. Beauty Queen’s mirror was in front of her face, and suddenly glowing with a light that seemed rather ominous.

“Hold still, please,” Beauty Queen trilled, but it wasn’t like Ladybug could move anyway—something about the mirror was damnably _hypnotic,_ forcing Ladybug to remain in place, her terrified eyes staring back at her as the mirror turned brighter, brighter—

“Look out!”

Something collided with Ladybug, knocking her out of the way just as a strange sound reached her ears; it was like a laser from a sci-fi movie firing. Ladybug rolled to the side, pushing herself to sit up as soon as she lost momentum, looking up just in time to see Chat fall to his knees.

“CHAT! NO!!” Ladybug cried, trying to jump to her feet, but her legs were numb with horror over what had just occurred.

“Tsk! You naughty kitty, you ruined my catch!” Beauty Queen cried, scowling down at her mirror, where Chat Noir’s face was frozen in a grimace, mask still in place. “Hmph! This face may be pretty in its own right, but I wanted _Ladybug’s_ face! Now I have to get rid of this one first!”

Without warning, she aimed her mirror at Shell, who only just managed to get his shield up in time once she fired.

“Whoa! Hey, watch it!” Shell shouted, charging at Beauty Queen with his shield raised, but she jumped out of the way, racing for Ladybug, her mirror raised.

“Ha ha! Now _really_ hold still this time, Ladybug, or—ack!”

Before Beauty Queen could do any more damage with the accursed mirror, Ladybug had her yo-yo out and wrapped around it, all while still on the ground. She gave a tug that was a little too strong—she fell back onto her back from the force of the pull, and the mirror went flying. Beauty Queen gaped after it for a second…and then turned on Ladybug, her teeth gnashing together.

“How DARE you! Fine! We’ll just do this the hard way, then!”

Ladybug pushed herself to sit up again, watching as Beauty Queen stomped towards her, jagged nails raised, as if she was ready to tear Ladybug’s face off. Ladybug scrambled back, mentally cursing her useless legs, which were still numb from the shock of what had happened to Chat Noir. Just as she had resigned herself to her fate of having to harm the akuma to defend herself, though…something peculiar happened. There was a strange, sharp sound, right before Beauty Queen could reach Ladybug. Beauty Queen paused, jumping a hasty step back, her stolen eyes widening.

“What? What is—ouch!” She leapt forward, hands flying to her backside as she whirled around, searching for some kind of culprit! “Did you just _smack_ my bottom?!” She accused Shell, who was standing just behind her, staring at his shield for some reason. He glanced up, blinking perplexed eyes at her, but before he could answer, the sharp sound came again and Ladybug saw it for just a moment: the tail end of _something_ whipping at the air, snagging on Beauty Queen’s dress. She jumped back with a yelp, and then a snarling growl rumbled through her throat.

“Oh, so you’re trying to play a trick on me, are you?! Just you wait! The minute I find my mirror, you’re _all_ in trouble!!”

And, with a speed that should be impossible in a dress that large and poofy, Beauty Queen sped off in the direction of her flung mirror, the sound of her rapidly tapping heels slowly fading in the distance. Ladybug breathed in and out, mentally commanding her heart to slow down as she slowly pushed herself to her feet. Her legs were unstable; they wobbled under her as she made her shaky way to Chat Noir, where he was slumped over, hands against the ground, head averted.

“Ch-Chat…” Ladybug whimpered, a hand going to his shoulder. One of his cat ears twitched, and his head jerked up, towards her—

Ladybug knew it would happen, but she still could not have prepared herself for it. Nevertheless, she swallowed the scream that had almost burst from her lips as Chat Noir’s faceless head stared at her. Hot tears began to push at her eyes as her shaking hands went to the sides of his head, cupping what would have been his cheeks, but was now just smooth, blank skin.

“Oh Chat,” Ladybug sniffled, pressing her forehead to the blankness. “I’m so sorry…”

“It’s okay, LB.”

“It is _not_ okay!” Ladybug protested hotly, drying her eyes with her arm before she glared at Shell and the strange look on his face. “ _Look_ at him! Beauty Queen took his face, and I probably destroyed the mirror! If he’s stuck like this until I use my restorative powers—!”

“Ladybug, _calm down,_ ” Shell insisted, stepping closer, his shield still held between his hands, that odd look still plastered to his face. “It’s okay. He…he didn’t go far…”

“Wha—?!”

The question was swallowed before it was completed—Shell turned his shield around for Ladybug to see, and stuck in the center of it, looking highly disgruntled, was Chat Noir’s face. Ladybug gasped, jumping to her feet and rushing over immediately.

“Chat!”

“Glad to see you, too, My Lady,” Chat’s face replied, looking distinctly awkward. “Though I have to say, this is by far the most bizarre akuma we’ve dealt with to date.”

“Oh Chat, thank _god,_ ” Ladybug sighed, her thumbs pressing into Chat’s cheeks. “I thought…I thought…”

“Don’t cry, My Lady. Tears don’t suit you,” Chat soothed, giving her a soft, charming smile that positively melted Ladybug. “Besides, it could be worse. At least I’m not working for the enemy this time around, right? But then you’d just fling me off a roof, I guess…”

Ladybug laughed, the sound equal parts hysteria and relief.

“Thank goodness you’re okay,” she sighed again, her thumbs stroking his cheeks…until Shell lifted his shield away, that is.

“Okay, okay, no making out with my shield, please,” he said dryly, ignoring Ladybug’s scowl. “Well, this is a fine pickle: we’re down one player, there’s a deranged akuma on the loose, and my shield is now useless.”

“Hey!” Chat’s face protested, and Ladybug caught the movement of Chat Noir’s body reacting indignantly as well, leaping to his feet, his arms folding and foot tapping in irritation. Ladybug stared at this bizarreness, merely listening as Shell retorted,

“What? Do you _want_ me to use your face to block enemy fire and potentially heavy objects?”

Chat Noir’s cat ears drooped, his shoulders slumping. Ladybug glanced over to find his face twisted unpleasantly, as if Shell’s reasoning was causing him pain.

“…I rescind my offended outburst,” he muttered after a moment.

“Thought so,” Shell replied, looking satisfied for a brief moment before his gaze turned onto Ladybug, troubled. “This ain’t good, LB. What do we do?”

Hmm. That was a good question: what _could_ they do in this situation…?

“Pardon me, but maybe I can be of some assistance?”

Once again, Ladybug whirled around at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, automatically moving to protect her friends. At first, she saw nothing, and this confused her. If nothing was there, where was the voice coming from…?

Shell gasped, and Ladybug spared him a brief glance of confusion before, suddenly, she was seeing what he was seeing: the air in front of them was shifting, as if there was something moving through it, something invisible…but not _quite_ invisible, no, more like it was—

Suddenly, she came into view with a toss of her hair: a short, curvy woman clad in a chartreuse outfit and mask. Her dark, curly hair was pulled back a high ponytail that ended in a spiral that hung over her shoulder, and her gloves were odd, separating her fingers into three parts. The stranger unhooked something from behind her—a length of green, the end frayed, like a whip. Abruptly, Ladybug realized that the sharp sound she registered earlier must have been coming from _her_ , and the reason Ladybug hadn’t seen her—

It was not quite invisibility, but just enough disguise to _appear_ invisible.

‘ _Camouflage._ ’

As Ladybug stared, blinking in a startled fashion, it was Shell that voiced the question buzzing around in her mind at different frequencies:

“Who are you?”

The mystery woman’s dark eyes sparkled from beneath her mask.

“You may call me Camille.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you unwilling to look it up, Adrien just told Erika that she did nothing wrong.
> 
> *Stares at this chapter in disdain*
> 
> ...This will be a three-parter. Goddamn it. Why do I do this to myself?
> 
> Someone pointed out on my writing blog that this was probably cliffhanger karma, and I can't say that I disagree. XP
> 
> Also, another little announcement: it has officially reached the point where I can no longer reply to all the comments you guys send me; there are simply too many at this point for me to do so and still keep my sanity. ^^; Now, this is the exact opposite of a problem, of course, but I just wanted to acknowledge it so no one thinks I'm ignoring them. I read and save and appreciate every lovely comment I get, so please don't think my non-response is me ignoring you; there are just too many of you guys commenting for me to reply now. Sorry. XD
> 
> I'll try and respond to any questions I get, but if you have something you're just BURNING to know, you'll have better luck with my writing blog: insanitysscribblings.tumblr.com. Shoot me a message over there; anon IS on, so you don't need a Tumblr to chat~
> 
> I think that's it. In Bonds pt. 3 (UGH), there will be more superhero shenanigans, and a couple liiiiittle slips that result in some things being...discovered. :D Next time, on BTU!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed~! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	24. Bonds pt. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this chapter, my first three-parter comes to an end.
> 
> Thank _god_.
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

Beauty Queen had disappeared.

Though they were still searching the city, it was strangely quiet, lacking the riot of sounds usually evoked when an akuma was loose. There were no screams of terror, no sounds of cars and pedestrians alike fleeing in the opposite direction from something.

Instead, there was nothing.

The silence made Ladybug very, _very_ suspicious.

As they paused next to a large building to regroup, Ladybug glanced up, finding the mysterious new superhero that had suddenly appeared in their midst clinging to the wall next to them, near the rooftop, able to apparently hang on with the power of her gloves alone. Her green super suit had changed to match the color of the building—a crème color—and from what Ladybug could see, she was peering over the rooftop, dark eyes surveying the area. Normally, that would be Ladybug’s job, but since she currently had her hands full with Chat Noir…

“So… _Camille,_ ” she drawled, addressing the mysterious woman, who glanced down and smiled at the mention of her name, “you’re new.”

“Not exactly,” Camille replied, resuming her vigil after a moment, “I am just new to the city.”

“And your Miraculous is…?”

Abruptly, her costume shifted to an eye-catching yellow, and Camille glanced down, surprise evident in her wide eyes.

“But do you not know?”

She drew her legs up underneath her, pushing off against the wall. Her gloves came away from the building, and Ladybug tensed, unsure of whether or not to rush forward and catch this foolish new superheroine, but it proved unnecessary: Camille landed on her feet just fine, straightening with ease. Ladybug supposed Chat would make a cat joke here…if he was actually around to see Camille do that…

‘ _Talk about being present in body alone,_ ’ Ladybug thought ironically, casting a glance over at Chat Noir’s body, which she made sit down as Emerald Shell and Chat’s face scouted the area elsewhere, leaving Ladybug to keep an eye on Camille and plot their next move. It was still eerie to see that blank stretch of skin where Chat’s face should be, and she found herself missing the wisecracks he’d be tossing out right now if only his mouth was present. Her gut clenched tighter every time his body twitched, as if he was reacting to whatever he and Shell were up to—bickering, probably. The sooner they caught this damnable akuma, the better…

“Chameleon.”

Ladybug blinked, startled out of brooding over Chat; she turned her gaze towards Camille, who was standing next to her, her suit abruptly green again. Ladybug frowned. What was with the constant changing colors?

“I’m sorry?”

Camille tilted her head to one side, looking bemused.

“You asked what my Miraculous is. It is the Chameleon Miraculous.”

Briefly, Camille reached up, her gloved fingertips brushing against something around her neck: a green choker with a shining jewel in the center. As Ladybug leaned in for a closer look, the jewel abruptly flashed cerulean. Camille’s outfit soon followed suit, the color spreading from her neck, as if the jewel—her Miraculous, Ladybug was assuming—dictated the color change. Ladybug glanced up at Camille’s face in confusion, only to find her smiling.

“It is my pride and joy,” she explained, patting the choker. But Ladybug’s frown only deepened. A sudden new superhero with a necklace as her Miraculous, huh? Ladybug had heard all that before…

“I’ve never heard of a Chameleon Miraculous,” Ladybug wasted no time in telling this new “superheroine”. True, it didn’t seem as if she had the illusion powers Volpina did, so perhaps it would be a lot harder for her to fool Ladybug…but still, fool her once…

Camille gave a shrug; Ladybug’s ignorance did not seem to bother her.

“I am not surprised—as I understand it, there are many Miraculous users all over the world who do not know of each other’s existence. As it happens, I am not native to France.”

Ladybug blinked at this. Really, now? Well, she supposed that explained the very proper French with the slight accent…

“Then why—?”

“Yo,” a voice cut in, and Ladybug whirled around to find Shell approaching, hopping off his hover board once he was close enough. He lifted his shield, and Ladybug spied Chat’s face looking less than happy.

“Ugh…I think I’m gonna be sick…” he groaned, squeezing his eyes and lips shut. Shell gave him a flat look.

“Your mouth isn’t even attached to your stomach right now. You literally have nothing to throw up.”

“Urrrrgh,” Chat still groaned, and Ladybug spied his body swaying slightly where it sat, as if it, too, was motion sick.

“But that’s an interesting idea,” Shell mumbled, studying Chat’s face for a thoughtful moment. “If we try and feed you something, will it just stay in your mouth? It’s not like you can swallow right now without a throat, so—”

“Stop,” Ladybug ordered, shaking her head at the scheming Shell. “Just…stop whatever you’re thinking. Now’s not the time to experiment.”

“Party pooper,” Shell accused with a frown, and Ladybug rolled her eyes.

“Any sign of the akuma?”

“None,” Chat reported, though he still kept his eyes carefully closed; the rise and fall of his body’s chest suggested that he was taking deep breaths, which roused Ladybug’s morbid curiosity— _was_ his face still attached to his body in some way? “She just…disappeared.”

“My guess is she’s holed up somewhere, waiting to get the drop on us,” Shell said.

‘ _Or,_ ’ Ladybug thought to herself, gripping her chin, her brow creasing, ‘ _she could just be hidden in plain sight, waiting for us to drop our guard…_ ’

Right on cue, Camille shifted, and Ladybug’s gaze cut to her; she was green again, and heading towards Chat Noir’s body.

“We should keep looking,” Camille suggested over her shoulder, leaning over Chat’s body for some reason Ladybug couldn’t fathom, but still did not like. “It would be bad if she stole any more faces. Here—the black kitten needs looking after, yes? I will—”

Faster than she could blink, Ladybug was at Camille’s side, slapping her hands away from Chat’s body as she reached for him. Camille jumped, her dark eyes wide as she blinked at Ladybug in surprise, her costume abruptly shifting to saffron. Ladybug ignored her, leaning over to tug Chat Noir’s body into a standing position herself.

“He’s _my_ partner. _I’ll_ look after him,” she asserted, locking gazes with Camille. After a moment, the new superheroine seemed to realize something, for she took a careful step back, pink beginning to blend into the yellow in her costume before consuming the previous color completely, leaving her costume flushed.

“Oh…my apologies,” she apologized humbly, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “I did not mean to overstep—”

“It’s fine,” called Chat Noir’s voice from Shell’s shield, looking sheepish as his body raised a hand to rub the back of his head. “My Lady just gets a bit…edgy…around new superheroes. Long story.”

Shell was staring at Ladybug, frowning. There was a warning in his gaze, though for what, specifically, Ladybug couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that she didn’t like that look, and she scowled back at him for it. A tense silence followed their stare-down, broken by Chat, who cleared his throat—or made the sound for clearing his throat, in any case—before asking in a hearty, offhand voice,

“So, that kaleidoscope thing you’ve got going on with your costume is neat. Can you change it at will?”

“Yes…when I try…” Ladybug glimpsed Camille playing with the end of her spiral hairstyle from her peripheral vision, looking both amused and exasperated. “But the colors come and go because my kwami is very emotion-based.”

“That’s gotta be distracting,” Shell chimed in, finally breaking gazes with Ladybug to focus on Camille. Ladybug briefly pondered if she should consider herself the victor of their staring match…hmm. It felt like a hollow victory, somehow. Perhaps because Shell willingly shifted his attention elsewhere…?

‘ _Get a grip,_ ’ Ladybug ordered herself sternly, her self-scolding derailed by the distraction that was Camille’s laughter. The boys were getting awfully chummy with her, weren’t they…?

“It _is_ distracting!” she agreed with an exasperated grin. “I am very obvious with my feelings because of it, like a…how do you say…‘mood ring’? It is terrible.”

She sighed, and the color of her costume shifted once again to blue…no, no, it was bypassing blue, turning darker, before the costume finally settled on a purple color as Camille smiled bittersweetly.

“It was better when I still had my partner—my costume was not so strange next to his feathers. He was _very_ flashy, that Pavone.”

Ladybug was about to suggest that they cut the chit-chat and actually get back to hunting down the akuma, but the words stuck in her throat, her head snapping around so fast to stare at Camille that she nearly gave herself whiplash.

“What did you just say?” She questioned, the words more aggressive than she intended. Camille jumped again, her dark eyes wide, her costume turning yellow once more.

“What? I—”

Shell stepped in, nudging Ladybug back, throwing her a “cool it” look that she scowled at.

“You know Pavone?” He asked in a more reasonable tone, and Camille appeared to relax a little, the green returning to her costume as she gave Shell a curious look.

“Yes, I know Pavone, though it has been many years since I have seen him. He was something like my mentor…” She glanced in between Ladybug and Shell, questions in her eyes. “Do…you know him?”

“Well, not _exactly—_ ”

The revelation was brought to a screeching halt as a distant scream captured the heroes’ attention.

“We don’t have time for this!” Ladybug burst out, throwing a scowl at Shell and Camille. “There’s a face-stealing akuma on the loose, remember?!”

“Oh yeah…” mumbled Chat Noir, looking as if this reminder surprised him. “Huh, funny, this situation reminds me of an episode from one of my favorite shows—”

“ _Later,_ ” Ladybug insisted, turning on her heel and taking hold of Chat Noir’s hand to lead his body, as she had been doing. His hand squeezed hers, which managed to cheer her up, just a little. “We have to de-akumatize the victim, so _let’s go!_ ”

“Yes, ma’am,” Shell replied, though there was just enough irony in his tone for Ladybug to make a mental note to have “words” with him later.

Since Ladybug had appointed herself to be Chat Noir’s guide, she was grounded with him, running at half speed just to make sure his body didn’t trip and stumble behind her. But despite not being able to see—his face was currently watching the ground fly by as Emerald Shell soared ahead of them, scouting the area—his footsteps never faltered once as he chased her, his hand warm and reassuring in hers. His implicit trust in her, the trust that allowed him to be led by her even though he was effectively blind, made Ladybug’s heart swell, and she gave his hand another squeeze, her pulse thumping harder when he squeezed back.

Camille leapt from rooftop to rooftop next to them, clinging to the edges when her jumps didn’t quite cut it, her whip-tail dangling behind her at every step. Ladybug wondered if she ever tripped over that thing, since it was pretty long, and Camille was rather short—

“There!”

Shell’s sudden shout tore Ladybug’s attention from the stranger in their midst. Beauty Queen was crouched over what appeared to be yet another victim; she stood up as she seemed to hear them approach, whirling around to face them—

Ladybug yelped, drawing to a sudden halt; she pulled Chat Noir to a stop as well, and his body wobbled, the move unexpected. As she steadied him with a hand to his chest, Ladybug gaped at Beauty Queen. Just when she thought this akuma couldn’t get any more horrifying—

Beauty Queen glared at them. A quarter of her face—another stolen face—was torn away, leaving just a blank stretch of skin where half her right eye and the right corner of her mouth should be, her expression only _partially_ formed. As an explanation, she lifted her mirror, where a thin crack could be seen running down the right side of it.

“You cracked my mirror,” she hissed at Ladybug, “now my face is _ruined._ ”

“Hard to call it _your_ face when you weren’t exactly born with it,” Chat answered from Shell’s shield, looking smug. “Or are you operating by the ‘finders, keepers’ rule?”

Beauty Queen ignored him, aiming her mirror at Ladybug once again.

“You will pay, Ladybug.”

“I really wish I was well-compensated for every time I had to hear that same threat over and over again,” Ladybug sighed, letting go of Chat’s hand and pushing his body back as she unhooked her yo-yo from her hip. “But okay, I’ll play along—come and get me.”

Ladybug dove out of the way as Beauty Queen’s mirror fired, keeping on the move and refusing to look directly at the mirror, lest she be caught in its glare once again. Shell was attempting to get close enough to Beauty Queen to remove the akumatized item, but she sent a few shots of the mirror his way as well, shots he had to work hard to dodge, since he was unwilling to use his shield with Chat’s face plastered onto it. Chat Noir was doing all he could to help, yelling taunts as his body lunged for Beauty Queen when it could, but since Shell was keeping on the move, Chat couldn’t always see where his body was going—more often than not, his body tripped over something, leaving it sprawled in the street. Overall, this was _quite_ a troublesome akuma they were dealing with, and Ladybug was pushing her brain into overdrive, trying to work out a solution that didn’t involve all their faces being lanced off their heads—

“Wait, I am confused,” said a voice beside her, and Ladybug glanced over sharply, surprised at Camille’s sudden appearance. It wasn’t like Ladybug had forgotten her—her attention _had_ to be focused elsewhere if she wanted to keep her face intact, and she hadn’t seen Camille since encountering Beauty Queen for the second time...so, out of sight, out of mind. But now that she was hidden behind this car, avoiding Beauty Queen’s fire (for now), Camille was suddenly at her side, frowning in confusion at Ladybug. Had she been camouflaged this whole time?

“Confused about what?” Ladybug questioned, cringing as Beauty Queen screamed for her to quit hiding and face her. _Face_ her, ha…ugh, she had been spending too much time with Chat.

Camille glanced around the car, frowning.

“What is it we are meant to be doing?” She asked, returning her gaze to Ladybug after a moment. “This is a…villain, yes? What the French call an ‘akuma’?”

“What gave it away?” Ladybug drawled sarcastically, getting antsy as Beauty Queen’s voice grew closer, as Shell cursed in the background, and the sound of Chat’s body hitting the ground for the umpteenth time reached her ears.

“But how do you defeat it?”

Ladybug huffed. She really didn’t have time for an akuma-conquering lesson…but considering her options for helpful allies were pretty much thin on the ground, due to the circumstances…

“Okay, so that woman over there calling herself Beauty Queen? There’s actually a person in there. She’s just possessed—an object somewhere on her body is housing an evil presence. _That’s_ the akuma. The woman’s just a victim who’s being used in the evil schemes of a villain that calls themselves The Butterfly. We need to find the possessed object, destroy it, and then purify the akuma before she can cause any more trouble.” Her Miraculous gave a beep, and Ladybug’s hand jumped to her ear, cursing under her breath. “And preferably before my time is up. But if none of us can get close enough to grab her necklace—”

“How do you know it is her necklace?”

“Call it a hunch,” Ladybug said shortly, chancing a glance around the back bumper of the car, and withdrawing quickly when Beauty Queen’s gaze flashed to her. Not quickly enough, however.

“Ah-ha! Found you, Ladybug!”

“ _Fuck,_ ” Ladybug hissed under her breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was trying really, _really_ hard not to be annoyed with the akumatized victim, especially if she was who Ladybug was ninety-five percent sure she was, but when she kept coming after Ladybug like this—

“So, to get closer to the victim…it is a distraction you need, yes?”

“That would be helpful,” Ladybug huffed, blinking in confusion when Camille suddenly stood. “Wait, what are you—?”

“Shh.”

Within a moment, Camille melted away, her camouflage ability taking effect. Ladybug squinted, just able to make out her movement as she shifted around the car, stepping to the side—

Beauty Queen rounded the corner, a manic smile on her twisted face.

 _Fuck_ to the second power.

“Caught you, Ladybug,” Beauty Queen cackled gleefully, raising her mirror in triumph. “Now hold still, or _so help me—_ ”

Camille suddenly reappeared a few meters from Beauty Queen, giving a short whistle and a wave when Beauty Queen whirled around to face her.

“ _Ciao,_ _Bella,_ ” she greeted pleasantly, unhooking her whip from behind her as she smiled at Beauty Queen. “How about you leave _Coccinelle_ alone and play with the two of us instead?”

Ladybug stared as Beauty Queen squinted at Camille. What on earth was she doing?

“The two of who?” She snapped, apparently annoyed that Camille was wasting her time. “There’s only one of you!”

Camille grinned widely, her dark eyes glittering.

“Oh?” She asked, raising her whip. “Are you sure about that?”

“Wha—” Beauty Queen began, both mystified and irritated all at the same time, but before she could finish articulating her question, Camille cracked her whip against the ground.

“Double Vision!”

And, before Ladybug’s very eyes…Camille split in two.

“What?!” She squawked right along with Beauty Queen, gaping at the two Camilles, her warning instincts against the mysterious superheroine rocketing through the roof. That was a _Volpina_ move right there!

But the longer she stared, the more Ladybug was able to catalogue the differences—whereas Volpina’s copies were completely identical and solid-looking, the vision of Camille flickered in between the two copies, as if she was moving very quickly from side to side instead of two of her being present, standing there grinning at Beauty Queen. It was very confusing _and_ distracting, Ladybug felt, her feelings echoed to a larger extent by Beauty Queen, who screeched in rage.

“That’s cheating!!” She snarled as the Camilles effortlessly dodged the rapid fire from her mirror, all without moving very much. The Camilles smiled identical, flickering smiles.

“Is it?” They questioned in unison, their thoughtful expressions mirroring each other’s, tapping their chins in sync. “Oh dear, our apologies…but what do you intend to do about it, exactly?”

“Bitch!” Beauty Queen snapped, racing forward, still quite fast in those tacky heels. “I’ll claw _both_ of your faces off!!”

“You have to catch us, first,” Camille taunted, dancing effortlessly around Beauty Queen as she lunged for them, screaming in outrage when she missed again and again. Ladybug, however, noticed that the flickering was beginning to slow down, and that one Camille was becoming more solid than the other. Shit—this power had a time limit, didn’t it?

“Camille!” Ladybug called, jumping to her feet and back into the action, “her necklace! Throw it to me!”

As the Camilles whirled around Beauty Queen once again, the more solid-looking one snatched the choker from Beauty Queen’s neck, turning to fling it towards Ladybug, who tossed it to the ground and stomped on it, crushing the jewel at the center. It was both a relief and a problem to see the akuma flitting out of it, flapping its wings as hard as it could to flee, a relief because Ladybug guessed right, and a problem because she was going to have to have a very awkward conversation with Erika, once she de-akumatized—

Ladybug sent out her yo-yo, capturing the akuma…or she _tried_ to, in any case. But the minute her yo-yo made contact, the akuma crumbled to bits.

Ladybug swore violently.

“It’s a fake!” She cried with a prick of despair, glancing up at Camille’s puzzled expression as she stared back at Ladybug, unaware of the danger behind her. “Camille, watch—!!”

Too late: Beauty Queen snapped her arms around Camille, who squeaked in surprise, her suit flashing saffron.

“I wouldn’t if I were you, Ladybug,” Beauty Queen hissed as Ladybug fingered the wire of her yo-yo, ready to use her Lucky Charm. Beauty Queen dug one of her jagged nails into Camille’s face, and blood began to bead at the wound. Ladybug straightened, fingers tensing on her wire.

“That’s right—one wrong move, and I ruin _this_ pretty face. Drop the yo-yo. _Now._ ”

Ladybug grit her teeth. The word “surrender” was not in her vocabulary—she was _Ladybug,_ for god’s sake. And it certainly was not in her nature to take demands from an akumatized victim—

Beauty Queen’s nails dug deeper into Camille’s chin, and she twitched, wincing, fear in her eyes, her face draining of color as well as her costume, the color slowly fading until there was none left, like it had suddenly become lifeless—

Ladybug swallowed her pride. It was a bitter pill, nearly choking her the whole way down her throat. But when she looked at Camille, putting on a brave face, though her lower lip trembled ever so slightly…

“Fine,” Ladybug spat, tossing her yo-yo to the ground and raising her hands to eye level, glaring at Beauty Queen, who simpered.

“Good. And you! Yes, _you_ , I see you sneaking around over there! Drop the sh—ah, but I forgot: it has a kitty face on it right now, which makes it useless, doesn’t it? What a shame.” Beauty Queen clucked her tongue, clearly enjoying this power trip too much. “Very well, you can keep the kitty shield, Turtle Boy.”

Ladybug could hear frantic muttering somewhere behind her. She couldn’t really pick up the words, but the cadences were clear: Shell and Chat were arguing about something again. Ladybug wanted to snap at them that this was not the time, but she could not pull her gaze from Beauty Queen, who grinned wickedly as she raised her mirror in front of Camille’s face.

“Well, since I’ve got you here, I might as well try your face on for size,” she purred as Camille stared, transfixed, into the mirror, which began to glow ominously. “It’s a little damaged, but since _someone_ cracked my mirror, it’ll hardly make a difference whether it’s intact or not…now, smile pretty for me, hero…let me see those pearly whites…”

“Just do it!” Ladybug heard Chat snap behind her.

“Fine!” Shell barked back. She turned just as something green went whizzing past her—

Shell’s shield hit the tiara on top of Beauty Queen’s head, which was apparently tangled in her hair. The momentum of the tiara yanked at her curls and she shrieked, hands jumping to her hair. Free of the mirror’s spell, Camille jumped and melted away from sight once more, though a crack of her whip had Beauty Queen stumbling back, falling onto her backside. As Shell’s shield rebounded like an overlarge boomerang, Beauty Queen’s mirror was snatched from her. It floated, apparently unsupported, over to Ladybug as Shell approached, with Chat’s body in tow, and Ladybug snatched up her yo-yo once more.

“Smash it, Camille!”

The mirror was raised…but then, for reasons unknown, Camille paused.

“Um…but this is seven years bad luck, is it not…?”

Chat snorted.

“Give it to me, then. Bad luck is child’s play for me…or _kitten’s_ play, I should say.”

“Boo,” Shell hassled, pointing a thumb down, and Chat’s face rolled its eyes.

“Everyone’s a critic,” he grumbled as his body stretched out a clawed hand, waiting for the mirror. Camille obliged him, and within seconds, the mirror was in pieces at their feet. Another akuma sprang forward from the mirror, and Ladybug bit her lip as she tossed out her yo-yo, hoping this was the real deal—

Her yo-yo snatched the akuma out of the air, enclosing it in the healing chamber. The heroes each breathed sighs of relief as the harmless white butterfly was released, flying off into the cloudy sky. Ladybug retrieved the repaired mirror as Beauty Queen finally de-akumatized, revealing—

 _Not_ Erika.

“Wha…who are you?” Ladybug sputtered as she approached, so surprised at the unexpected appearance of a woman she did not recognize that she was able to ignore the second beeping of her Miraculous. The woman on the ground rubbed at her head, startled dark eyes blinking at her surroundings, her skin smooth and unblemished, nose straight and lips full. She was _beautiful,_ Ladybug realized. But then, this whole situation didn’t make any sense: why would a woman so pretty need to steal other women’s faces?

“What…where are…Ladybug?” The victim mumbled, disoriented. “I…oh no…was I…”

“You were,” Shell confirmed grimly as he approached, kneeling next to the flustered victim. “Are you okay?”

“I…I think so…oh…my mirror!”

Ladybug started, realizing that she was still holding the previously possessed object. She handed it over, and the woman clutched at it as if it were a lifeline, hugging the mirror to her for dear life. It clearly meant a lot to her…

“This mirror,” Ladybug began, operating on a hunch, as she was prone to do, “it was a gift from your…” The diamond ring on the woman’s ring finger caught Ladybug’s attention for a moment. “Husband?”

The woman’s expression crumpled into despair.

“My fiancé, Phillipe,” she whimpered, her grip on the mirror tightening.

“He did something to upset you,” Ladybug guessed again, patting the woman’s shoulder in a comforting manner as her eyes began to tear up.

“He’s _always_ upsetting me!” The woman burst out, raising a hand to wipe at her eyes. “He’s a philanderer!”

“‘Philanderer’?” Camille questioned, the word rolling off her tongue, as if it was foreign to her. “You mean…like Casanova?”

“I think that’s the general idea,” Chat’s face muttered as the woman gave a wail.

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong!” She sobbed, and Shell joined in the shoulder patting. “I-I’m nothing but loyal, l-loving, attentive…but he still cheats on me! H-he’s always going on about how b-beautiful other women are…right to my face! I don’t get it!!”

Understanding dawned on Ladybug as she put together the pieces: this woman, feeling unworthy and unloved by her philandering fiancé, became Beauty Queen and began to steal other women’s faces so that maybe her fiancé would stop straying. In other words, the culprit here was another broken heart.

She, Camille, Shell, and Chat exchanged glances.

“Dump him,” the four of them advised the woman at once. This unanimous decision appeared to startle the woman, who hiccupped herself into silence, staring at the costumed heroes before her.

“What? B-but I can’t! He’s…he’s the only man I’ve ever loved!” She glanced down, lowering the mirror to peer into it, her tears splashing against the surface. “And…wh-what if he’s right? What if…what if I’m _not_ beautiful enough for him? What if I’m…not beautiful enough for _any_ ma—”

“ _Smettila!_ ” An angry voice snapped, and Ladybug jumped, startled as she glanced over to find Camille kneeling next to her, her costume flashing crimson as she glared at the woman. “You stop that _right now!_ ”

“Uh, Camille—?” Shell began, eyeing her nervously, but Camille ignored him, placing a hand flat across the mirror and pushing it down as she leaned forward, capturing the woman’s dark eyes with her own.

“You listen to me: you are a _goddess._ You have the power within you to make men fall at their _knees_ when they see you, but you are kind enough to encourage them to stand and treat you like a normal human being. And you love fiercely, with all your heart. So how can you sit there and say that you are unlovable? You are crazy!”

Camille snatched the mirror from the woman’s limp hands, raising it to reflect her surprised expression.

“Do you know how rude you are being to this lovely woman?” Camille demanded, jabbing a finger at the reflection in the mirror. “She should be crying because _you_ dare to call her not beautiful, not because of what any cheating _bastardo_ thinks!”

Ladybug could only stare at this sudden, fierce side of Camille as she practically shoved the mirror in the woman’s face.

“If that is how you truly feel, then say that to her face! Tell that woman in the mirror that you hate her, that she is ugly and unlovable! Tell her that she is not good enough! Go on, I dare you! Repeat the horrible things the man you love says to you!”

The woman stared at her reflection in the mirror, her eyes wide. Her lips were trembling, and tears began to gather once again as she took shaky breaths.

“You…you’re…you’re ug-ug…”

She couldn’t finish. Instead, she burst into more tears, sobs wrenching from her. It was heartbreaking to watch, and Ladybug had to look away, half a mind to step in now, if Camille planned on bullying this poor woman—who had gone through _quite enough_ for one day—any further.

But as she turned and opened her mouth to order Camille to lay off, the words died once she caught the tender look on Camille’s face, the red fading from her suit and replaced with its normal green as she scooted closer. Shell moved out of the way, allowing Camille to wrap an arm around the shaking, sobbing woman.

“There, you see? How can you say such things if you do not believe them? And how can you allow anyone _else_ to say such hurtful lies about you? You deserve better, do you not?”

Once more, Camille lifted the mirror, though she kept it at a reasonable distance this time.

“Now, repeat after me: I am beautiful. Go on, it is fine! It is the truth, yes? Say it.”

“I…I’m beautiful,” the woman repeated, her red-rimmed eyes focused on the mirror.

“I am lovable.”

“I…I am lovable.”

“I am worthy.”

“I am…worthy.”

“Very good. Now, homework: repeat this chant five times a day,” Camille instructed, handing the mirror back the crying woman, giving her back a pat and a soothing smile. “And get rid of your philandering fiancé Phillipe. If that is how he would talk to a goddess, then surely he is unworthy of you, or any woman he lays eyes on. He does not know true beauty, and his opinion is unimportant because of it. You deserve better.”

“Well said,” Ladybug had to agree, and Camille smiled at her as well. Together, they helped the crying woman to her feet. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

The crying woman lived just down the street, it transpired. Nevertheless, she got a full hero guard to see her home, and though she was still crying when they dropped her off, she bade them good day with the bravest smile she could muster, and Ladybug’s heart warmed at the sight. As they left the woman’s street, thunder rumbled overhead, and her Miraculous gave another beep. Her time here was almost up.

“Uh…Ladybug?” Chat spoke up, and Ladybug glanced over to find him cringing at her from Shell’s shield. “A little help here?”

Oh, _shit._ How could she have forgotten?!

“Miraculous Ladybug!” Ladybug called, tossing her yo-yo into the air. The miraculous ladybugs swarmed all around, righting the damage the akuma rampage caused. Chat’s face was removed from Shell’s shield and returned to its rightful place on his head, and Ladybug felt herself go weak with relief as he blinked, glancing around and feeling his face, as if to check that it was where it should be.

“Ah…that’s better. I’ve heard about the horrors of facelifts, but _that_ was—!”

Whatever stupid joke Chat was about to make was cut off as Ladybug yanked him down to her eye level, fingers lacing around the back of his neck. She was so glad, _so glad_ that such damage had been reversible, that Chat hadn’t been irreparably hurt because of her, because he, _once again_ , threw himself in danger’s way just to protect her. He was so sweet and so thoughtful and so protective of her that it made Ladybug’s heart hurt and sing at the same time, and she was feeling so grateful that she could just kiss him—

And why shouldn’t she? Why shouldn’t she kiss her partner for protecting her once again, for saving the day with his sacrifices, from pushing her out of the way of the mirror one minute to allowing his face to be thrown into danger just to give them an edge? He deserved at least one kiss from her, his Lady, didn’t he? For his good services and good behavior? There was no good reason why she _shouldn’t_ kiss him—

‘ _He is SEEING SOMEONE, Marinette!!!_ ’

The harsh reality check crashed through Ladybug’s fevered _gratitude_ (that’s _all_ it was, gratitude) towards Chat, and she froze before her face could get any closer to his. Chat merely stared at her, turning crimson under his mask, his cat eyes wide with confusion.

“My…Lady…?” He questioned after a moment, looking just as startled as Ladybug felt at herself. She shut her eyes, afraid of what she might see in Chat’s eyes if she dared to prolong the contact, covering up her temporary bout of insanity by bumping her forehead against his with a soft sigh.

“You _need_ to stop scaring me like this,” she grumbled, unable to help the blame she placed on him. Chat chuckled weakly, his arms sliding around her for a brief hug.

“Forgive me, My Lady,” he muttered, drawing back as far as he could with her hands still around his neck. Ladybug reluctantly opened her eyes, finding that strangely gentle smile on his face once again, so out of place compared to the usual cocky grins he flashed…and yet, somehow, still so very familiar… “But I can’t very well stand on the sidelines and let you be harmed either, though, right?”

He was so very, very, very sweet. Ladybug opened her mouth, lips posed to say more…but then it occurred to her, quite abruptly, that she and Chat were not alone.

Feeling her face grow hot, Ladybug glanced over to Camille and Shell. The former of the superheroes was looking politely away, her eyes on the ominous, rumbling clouds overhead as she hummed to herself, though her costume was swirling with pink once again, which Ladybug took to mean that she was embarrassed.

But Emerald Shell was staring straight at her.

Ladybug hurriedly looked away, unlocking her fingers from Chat’s neck and stepping away from him, but it was too late. Shell had seen. He knew what Ladybug had been thinking, what she had almost done. He had been witness to that very near miss that had occurred between her and Chat.

Ladybug could deny, deny, deny all she wanted: actions _always_ spoke louder than words.

And Ladybug was so very, _very_ fucked.

A small gasp from Camille provided a welcome distraction, and Ladybug turned to her, wondering what the issue was.

Camille was still looking away from them, but her costume was flashing yellow, and her mouth was open as she stared at something in the distance. Frowning, Ladybug glanced over, wondering what was so fascinating.

She could only make out a flash of blue before whatever it was disappeared. Ladybug blinked, staring at the spot. Was that…?

Camille took a few steps forward, as if she meant to follow the flash of blue…but she paused in the middle of the street, just staring for a moment. Slowly, her head lowered, and she folded her arms behind her back, clutching at her right forearm, violet swirls overtaking the yellow in her costume. Ladybug bit her lip, taking a step or two forward after Camille, wondering what she should say.

“Uh…was that…Pavone?”

“It was,” Camille confirmed, raising her gaze to the sky once again, where she and Ladybug had glimpsed that flash of blue. “He was there for but a moment…but I would know my partner anywhere. I…did not expect to see him here.”

And yet, she obviously missed him—the purple in her costume had appeared when she was speaking of him earlier, too. Sympathizing completely, Ladybug raised a hand, patting Camille’s shoulder.

“Do you…want to go after him?”

Camille tilted her head to the side, still looking away from Ladybug. She appeared to be deliberating.

“…No,” she decided after a moment, surprising Ladybug. She finally turned to look at her, smiling slightly. “Before we parted ways, Pavone said to me that he had very important work to do. I do not know what it is he meant…but I suppose this must be part of it.” She nodded decisively. “I must respect that.”

“Mystery dude, that Pavone,” Shell said as he and Chat approached, and Ladybug carefully kept her gaze from the both of them. “He’s been helping us out this whole time, but he won’t join us.”

“Do you know who he is?” Chat asked Camille, who threw her head back and laughed at this.

“No…he was always very private about his identity. To this day, his true name is a mystery to me.”

Ladybug and Chat Noir exchanged furtive glances before hastily looking away.

“Well, maybe you’ll get a chance to find out, now that you’re both in the same place again,” Ladybug suggested. Camille blinked, her dark eyes perplexed.

“But do you not know?” She asked, and the odd phrasing of such a question distracted Ladybug, for it was the second time she had heard such odd phrasing…

Ladybug frowned. No— _third_ time. This was the third time she had heard this question phrased so strangely. The last two times, it was coming from Camille, but the first time…

“I am not staying in France,” Camille announced, breaking Ladybug’s train of thought, smiling apologetically. “I am only here by coincidence, since I am currently visiting a very dear friend of mine.”

A dear friend…

“And I leave tomorrow, so I very much doubt that we will see each other again before then,” Camille continued to explain. She glanced around, smiling pleasantly. “Still…my week in Paris was lovely…even if tonight took a…strange turn? I was so surprised! Though you certainly _hear_ of the trouble Paris faces with your possessed citizens, I did not expect to _see_ it when I was only visiting for a week!”

Only a week…

Wait a minute—

Raindrops began to fall; it appeared the sky had finally made up its mind about its weather patterns. As Ladybug glanced up, biting her lip, her Miraculous gave its fourth beep, and she knew her time was nearly up—it was a bad idea to keep Tikki working through the rain, anyway.

“Time to go,” Shell announced, as if Ladybug needed reminding. She sighed, dreading the walk home with him for a number of reasons, but if she didn’t want a reveal of her own to happen in a minute—

“Well, it was lovely to meet you…Camille,” Ladybug said, making sure to address the heroine by her preferred name…though suspicions over her true name had been aroused. Still, it was rude to assume, and even ruder to potentially out a fellow superheroine, and so Ladybug let it go, raising a hand for Camille to shake. “And…thank you. For everything.”

Ladybug let her smile be tinted by a silent apology; she had not treated Camille fairly upon first meeting her, suspicious and wary that she was an enemy in disguise, her paranoia over the whole “Volpina” situation refusing to disappear without a fight. But after seeing Camille in action, Ladybug was forced to conclude that she was wrong. And when she was wrong, she had to admit it…if only through a simple, friendly gesture.

Camille glanced down at Ladybug’s hand, her dark gaze flickering up to her face a moment later. There was a moment’s pause…and then Camille, grinning widely, threw her arms around Ladybug instead and squeezed. The friendly gesture took Ladybug by surprise—again—and she could only pat Camille’s back after a startled moment.

“It was an honor to meet you, _Coccinelle,_ ” Camille enthused, pulling back to grin at Ladybug, her suit changing to cerulean blue. “And you as well, uh…oh, but I never got your name, _Monsieur_ —”

“Emerald Shell,” Shell introduced himself with an easygoing smile. “But Shell’s fine.”

“His _really_ close friends call him _Amante Lattuga,_ ” Chat said after Camille had given Shell a tight hug as well.

“Hey, I may not know Italian—which is what I’m _pretty_ sure you’re speaking—but I _do_ know that a fist to the mouth is the same in every language,” Shell said, sending an unimpressed scowl Chat’s way, who folded his hands behind his head and attempted to look innocent. Camille giggled behind a gloved hand.

“You two are funny,” she complimented them, and Shell shook his head in disbelief as Camille approached Chat. “Well, goodbye, Chat Noir. It was nice to…ah.” Camille had stepped in for a hug, but then she paused, sending a furtive glance Ladybug’s way, her suit blushing for her. Checking her movement, Camille extended a hand to a bemused Chat Noir instead. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Chat replied, returning the smile a little sheepishly.

Sudden beeping interrupted the goodbyes, and Ladybug and Chat Noir swore at the same time.

“Gotta go!” They cried in unison, fleeing for opposite cover in the area.

“Take care, Camille!” Ladybug heard Shell call as he chased after her, and Ladybug chanced one last glance over her shoulder, glimpsing Camille one final time, looking startled at the sudden farewell even as she waved them along.

“Goodbye!” She called one final time before she melted from view once again, off to wherever she had come from…and Ladybug had a few ideas on that front…

As she and Shell scampered away, Chat Noir dove for the nearest enclosed space, glancing back briefly to confirm that, yes, Ladybug and Shell were headed in the same direction. Again.

That was way too suspicious…didn’t this confirm his theory that Shell knew who Ladybug was underneath the mask, and possibly vice-versa? And if so, how had Shell managed that? Just what had he done to earn her closest of confidences?

‘ _You have no right to be jealous,_ ’ Chat reminded himself with a frown, though it was a hard fact to accept. But the matter was pushed from his mind the minute his transformation broke.

“I’m _exhausted!_ ” Plagg complained immediately once he escaped Adrien’s ring, flopping down into his Chosen’s open palms. “You are _terrible_ to me, you know that? I work, and I work, and for _what?!_ ”

“Save the guilt trip, you glutton,” Adrien huffed, shifting Plagg to one hand so he could retrieve a piece of camembert from his pocket. “I’ve got your cheese right here.”

Plagg promptly went silent, save for his happy squees as he tossed the camembert in the air and caught it with his mouth, swallowing in one gulp as usual, much to Adrien’s disgust. Patting his satiated stomach (for now), Plagg eyed Adrien with a smirk, his cat’s eyes glittering in the darkness of the alley.

“Someone was Mr. Popular today. Was that jealousy I saw from Ladybug earlier?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Adrien muttered, though his face flushed red at the implication. “Ladybug was just worried that Camille would turn out to be another Volpina.”

“Uh-huh. Which is why she almost kissed you just a few minutes ago.”

“She _didn’t._ ”

“She was going to.”

“You don’t know that.”

“What, you think I don’t know an incoming kiss when I see—”

Abruptly, Plagg stopped talking…and considering his mouth wasn’t full of cheese at the moment, that was a bad sign. His gaze was focused on something deeper in the alley, ears pricked up in surprise.

“Wha—” Adrien began, glancing that way, too, but since his night vision currently wasn’t as great as it could be, he could only make out the shape of something lurking in the shadows.

But something was _definitely_ there.

His mind flashing to the shadow thing that had attacked Ladybug a few weeks ago, Adrien swore, widening his stance into a fighting position.

“Plagg, transform—”

“Adrien?” Gasped a voice from the shadows. Adrien stood stock still, feeling his eyes go wide in his face as someone approached…

The sight of a cellphone with a Ladybug keychain attached was the first sight as the figure stepped out of the shadows…a _too_ familiar figure…

Adrien stared, his heart rate skyrocketing as hazel eyes blinked at him in stunned silence.

“Alya.”

_Fuck._

 

* * *

 

Alya didn’t know how to react.

Here she was, secretly getting footage of Paris’ superheroes—and a guest appearance of some new chick?—battling yet another akuma after she had given Adrien the slip, knowing he’d probably tell Nino if he knew what she was up to…but apparently, it was _she_ who had been ditched instead.

For, _apparently_ , it appeared that her friend’s not-boyfriend Adrien Agreste and mid-redemption Chat Noir were one in the same.

Sure, realizing Ladybug and Emerald Shell’s true identities was an ordeal all its own, but this?

This was just fucking bullshit.

“…Oh my FUCKING—” Alya began, her voice growing louder with every syllable she uttered, but Adrien hurriedly shushed her, glancing around nervously, as if the sound of her voice would summon every news reporter in Paris.

“Alya, shhh! Please! Don’t scream!”

“‘ _Don’t scream_ ’ _?!_ ” Alya quoted him in disbelief, ignoring the rain as it began to fall heavier. Her hair was getting wet, and she was going to be a ball of disgruntled frizz later, but for now, that was unimportant, because Chat Noir, _Chat fucking Noir was_ —

“Alya, _please!_ ” Adrien begged, his hands up in protest, panic in his green eyes. “ _Please_ don’t tell anyone!! No one can know!”

Alya blinked. The fuck did he _mean,_ no one can know?

…Wait, was he saying—

“No one else knows you’re Chat Noir?” Alya questioned, gaping at him, her eyes occasionally flicking to the black, cat-like thing peeking out at her from under Adrien’s collar, softly hissing every time she glanced its way. “ _No one else knows?_ ”

“Uh…w-well, my therapist knows…” Adrien admitted, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. “But that’s all. So please, I’m begging you—don’t spread this around, okay?”

Alya eyed him. Was that true? Did no one else but Ivan know Chat Noir’s true identity? Not even…

“What about Ladybug and Emerald Shell?”

Adrien shook his head.

“No, not even they know,” he mumbled, something like regret in his voice. “It has to be a secret, Alya, for safety reasons. So, please—”

“So let me get this straight,” Alya talked over him, her sense of incredulity over the situation beginning to build, “the only people who know you’re Chat Noir are Ivan…and then me?”

“Yes,” Adrien confirmed, looking confused…as if he didn’t understand why Alya was staring at him as if he was born without a brain. As a matter of fact, they were _all_ brainless, the three of them, running around in costumes every other night without knowing each other’s identities…were they fucking _kidding her right now?!_

Alya slapped a hand to her forehead and groaned loudly.

Her friend, her friend’s not-boyfriend, and her fiancé were _so fucking stupid!_

“Please, Alya, I’m seriously begging you, here,” Adrien pleaded, clasping his hands together as he unleased the force of his puppy eyes— _kitten_ eyes!—on Alya, who cringed under the force. “I’ll do whatever you say, I’ll give you whatever you want. Just, _please_ , don’t tell anyone. _Especially_ not Nino or Marinette, okay? Please?”

As his words sunk in, the wheels in Alya’s diabolical mind began to turn as she eyed him. Hmm…anything she said or wanted, huh?

Well…this changed everything. And it had the potential to work out very well in her favor.

“… _Anything_ I want?” Alya made sure to confirm, a slow smile beginning to spread across her face. Adrien eyed her, blood beginning to drain from his face.

“Uh…within reason…?”

“Oh, Adrien, Adrien, _Chat Noir,_ ” Alya drawled, just loud enough to make Adrien visibly nervous as she stepped forward, grinning up at him. “I _really_ don’t think you’re in a position to bargain here, do _you_ …?”

Rain saturated Adrien’s hair, melting the gel, causing his carefully coiffed blonde locks to droop. Alya muffled a snicker as she realized he had _Chat hair._ Well, now _she_ felt a little stupid for not seeing it before as well. Maybe she should cut Nino and Marinette some slack…

“I…kinda feel like I just sold my soul to the Devil,” Adrien muttered, tense and anxious as Alya passed him, laughing softly.

“Oh, Adrien, comparing me to Satan just proves that you don’t know me well enough,” Alya said, turning to wink at him, wicked grin still in place. “But thank you for the compliment.”

Adrien swallowed loudly, and Alya turned, laughing to herself. He looked like he was about to pass out from shock…poor boy. Hmm…as much fun as this was…

“Relax, Agreste,” Alya insisted, glancing out of the mouth of the alleyway to make sure the coast was clear before she stepped out onto the sidewalk, waving Adrien after her. “Your secret’s safe with me.” She had a couple of other peoples’ secrets she was already carefully guarding, after all…what was one more?

“Really?” Adrien asked, his tone and expression guarded as he joined her on the sidewalk, eyes searching her face as Alya dug around in her bag, stowing her phone away and making a mental note to edit out the last part of the video, where the reveal of Chat Noir’s identity was accidentally recorded. The rest she would post to her blog, because she had a duty to her followers, naturally, but she was nowhere _near_ cruel enough to expose Adrien’s secret to the world—poor boy had been fucked up enough from the world learning that his father had been Hawk Moth.

“Really,” Alya assured him, finally discovering what she was looking for: a beat-up umbrella. She deployed it and held it over her and Adrien’s heads, used to the height, since he and Nino were within a couple centimeters of each other, Nino being just a bit taller. As Adrien slouched slightly under the umbrella, Alya smirked at him.

“But I do hope you realize this means you’re going to be answering a _lot_ of questions from now on. Starting with _that_ thing,” she said, pointing to the cat thing poking out of Adrien’s collar.

“I am _not_ a _thing!_ ” It protested, and Alya gave an easy shrug.

“Well, whatever you are, I’ll find out soon enough,” she assured it with a smirk that appeared to make it nervous, if its retreat further into Adrien’s jacket was any indication. Glancing back up at Adrien, Alya jerked her head and began walking. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“What do you _mean_ where? Isn’t there a lost Italian chick somewhere you’re responsible for this week?”

“Oh…oh, right!” Adrien sputtered; apparently, he had forgotten all about Erika. Alya sighed and rolled her eyes. This boy was hopeless.

Still, though…knowing this piece of new information suddenly made his dynamic with Ladybug a _lot_ more interesting…

 

* * *

 

The rain showed no signs of letting up.

Marinette sighed from where she and Nino were, tucked away in an alcove as they tried to wait the weather out. It had been Nino’s suggestion, since neither of them had an umbrella on them—if only Alya were here—and though Marinette felt the suggestion might have been innocent enough in nature…she could not help but feel cornered. The citizens of Paris had vacated the streets as the rain fell, for the most part, occupied umbrellas here and there hurriedly making their way towards their destinations, for who wanted to be cold _and_ wet at the same time? It seemed like she and Nino were the only saps that had forewent umbrellas and were now stuck under the only shelter they had…just her and Nino…alone. (The kwamis, currently sleeping off their exhaustion, were excluded in the count.)

There was a small intake of breath next to her, stirring the silence, and Marinette steeled herself. Here it came—

“Hope Erika’s okay,” Nino said idly, and Marinette chanced a glance at him, finding him frowning out in the distance. Hmm…perhaps he didn’t share Marinette’s suspicions on the true identity of Camille, then…

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Marinette said, just catching the searching look Nino gave her before she glanced away from him, watching cars drive past them, their tires splashing water onto the sidewalks.

“You sound a little too confident, considering we haven’t seen her since we were at Francoise’s,” Nino pointed out, and Marinette’s brow furrowed. True, she did sound a little too self-assured, didn’t she? After all, hadn’t she believed, until she was proven wrong, that the akumatized victim in this situation was Erika herself? She could just as easily be wrong about Camille’s identity as well, couldn’t she?

…But if she _was_ wrong again, that was a hell of a pile of coincidences between the two women…

“Call it women’s intuition,” Marinette replied with a mild shrug. Nino raised an eyebrow at her, but seemed to choose not to pursue it further. Silence fell once again in their little rain-free sanctuary…but Marinette knew it would not last. Sooner rather than later, Nino would say what was on his mind, the thing he was mulling over so thoughtfully, with his brow creased like that, his laugh lines pulled the wrong way as he frowned…

“…Marinette.”

Marinette registered the use of her full name, closed her eyes, and willed herself not to run from this conversation, no matter how awkward it was bound to get...

“Yes?”

“…I saw it. Earlier. I saw what you were about to do.”

‘ _Play dumb,_ ’ a panicked voice in her brain tried to convince her, but she shook her head, ridding herself of such nonsense. What would be the point?

When she did not respond, she saw Nino’s head turn towards her, felt his gaze on her face, as if he could ferret out answers on his own if he stared hard enough.

“…You are, aren’t you? In love with him, I mean. You’re in love with Chat Noir.”

“I am _not,_ ” Marinette protested with a short huff, raising a hand to massage the side of her forehead. “For the last time, I’m not in love with him, Nino, okay?”

Nino paused, appearing to take a moment to chew that over, perhaps to decipher the sincerity in her eyes. After some time, he nodded.

“Okay,” he conceded, and there was no trace of sarcasm or doubt in his tone. His golden gaze, however, remained intent on her face. “But you _do_ have feelings for him. Romantically.”

Marinette wanted to deny this too, wanted to fight against it with all her might, tear the assumption to pieces. But how could she, when it held such weight, sat so solidly in front of her, like a pillar as ancient as time itself?

As much as Marinette _wanted_ to deny it, wanted to hide, to blind herself from it…it was the truth. In the end, truth could never be ignored. It was _always_ brought to light.

Catching her bottom lip in between her teeth, Marinette looked away from Nino, unwilling to see the disappointment she feared she would see in his gaze as she gave one slow, damning nod.

For a while, there was nothing but the sound of the rain between them.

“What about Adrien?”

Marinette winced as the question pierced her. Indeed, what about Adrien…?

She gave a sigh, hating herself. How had she let herself be pulled into such a mess?

“I like him, too,” she admitted, feeling wretched. From her peripheral vision, she saw Nino fold his arms.

“You know what I’m about to say, don’t you?”

“That I have no business fooling around with Chat when the guy I’m involved with now _isn’t_ an infamous cat man and someone you can’t stand?”

Nino gave a short huff.

“‘Nette…how I feel about Chat Noir doesn’t matter here.”

Such an unexpected statement startled Marinette. She glanced over, eyes wide as she surveyed Nino, taking in his frown. There was no judgement there, no disappointment in his eyes…just worry. He was concerned about her…but he wasn’t begrudging her her feelings, either.

Marinette blinked at him, uncomprehending.

“It…doesn’t?” She asked slowly, almost certain she had misheard. Nino smiled a little at her surprise.

“No.” He rubbed the back of his head, glancing away as his expression became sarcastic. “Okay, so he bugs the hell out of me, I’ll give you that…” As Marinette watched, her shock only growing by the minute, Nino’s gaze softened. “…But if anything was proven today, it’s that he really _does_ care for you, and would die to protect you in a heartbeat. He gets on my nerves, yeah…but when it comes to what’s important, dude comes in clutch. I’ll never say it to his face, since it’ll probably go right to his head…but the cat bastard’s shaping up to be all right.”

Nino returned his gaze to Marinette, a helpless smile curving his lips as he shrugged.

“So…if you ended up choosing him…well, I’d find a way to be okay with that.” He suddenly deadpanned her a look that proved he had been spending too much time with Alya. “But the minute you guys get gross, I’m putting my foot down.”

“Really?” Marinette questioned, her eyes searching Nino for any signs of insincerity, though she knew better. “You’d really be okay with me choosing Chat?”

“So you _are_ considering choosing him,” Nino confirmed with a raised eyebrow, and Marinette flushed, hurriedly looking away from him.

“I…I don’t know,” she admitted, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “This is…still new to me. I…I don’t really know what I’m going to do, yet…”

“Well, not to pressure you or anything, ‘Nette, but you have to pick _one_ of them,” Nino pointed out, as if that was not already painfully apparent. “If you choose Adrien, great. If you choose Chat, cool. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.” He frowned now, looking like the stern big brother Marinette never had. “But I can’t watch you kiss Adrien one minute, and then slap on your polka-dotted mask to kiss Chat the next minute. That’s not how this works. You can’t have _both_ of them.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” She protested, a little hurt and offended that Nino felt the need to point out something so obvious. “Do you honestly believe I’m the kind of person to do something like that, Nino?”

Nino looked uncomfortable.

“I really would hope not…” he paused, “…but you _did_ almost kiss Chat today.”

Marinette flushed furiously. She wanted to complain that that wasn’t fair, but…

“But I didn’t,” she protested anyway, though her voice was small, as if her own body could not justify her actions.

“But you almost did,” Nino persisted, frowning. “What does such a near miss tell you, Marinette?”

Once again, Marinette was forced to look away from Nino, from the integrity of his words. He was right—the fact that she had barely resisted her instincts and avoided kissing Chat told her that there was some serious soul-searching she had to do in regards to the two men in her life.

And Nino was absolutely right on one other point, too: whether it was one or the other, she could not have them both.

But the question was…how did she choose…?

More importantly, how  _could_ she choose when she knew very well that Chat Noir was involved with someone else...?

Nino’s phone buzzed in his pocket, distracting them both. Marinette watched quietly as Nino pulled it out, his golden eyes zooming behind his glasses as he read the text.

“Adrien and Alya found Erika,” he reported, and Marinette breathed a sigh of relief as he quickly responded to the text. “Apparently she was waiting for us at Francoise’s. Alya wants us to meet them there.”

Marinette glanced out at the rain and sighed.

“Guess we’re gonna have to take one for the team,” she said, holding out a hand from under the overhang, feeling rain splatter against her palm.

“So what else is new?” Nino replied dryly, and Marinette couldn’t help but laugh. Making sure Tikki would stay dry tucked inside her coat, she and Nino made a run for it, Marinette squealing in protest in the chilly rain and Nino laughing as they splashed through ankle-deep puddles.

The rain persisted, unfeeling towards their problems, especially Marinette’s. And, in a strange way, it was comforting to know that no matter what decisions she made—no matter which blonde in her life she chose—the world would go on.

Marinette clung to that notion, shoving her current turmoil over her suddenly complicated love life into a locked box, to wrestle with another time. The Adrien vs. Chat debate could wait. The world was bigger than Marinette and her romantic troubles, after all…

Though, when she and Nino met up with Alya, Adrien, and Erika—who all proceeded to freak out over Nino and Marinette’s soaked state and worry about possible colds—as Marinette looked at Erika and catalogued the striking similarities between her and a certain superheroine, she was also reminded that the world was not _so_ big, either.

 

* * *

 

As a proper send-off for Erika’s last night in Paris, the gang took her to the finest in French cuisine Paris had to offer. (Adrien agreed to pay and would not hear arguments to the contrary.) Though Marinette watched Erika carefully all through dinner, nothing about her demeanor was concrete proof that she and Camille were the same person. Sure, they both spoke Italian, but a lot of people knew Italian. Sure, they were both short with dark curly hair and dark eyes, but who wasn’t? And sure, Camille mentioned that she would be leaving the country the same time Erika would be, but everything so far was just circumstantial. So, at the end of the night, Marinette was no closer to an answer on whether or not Erika was Camille than she was when she first began to suspect her.

In fact, the only thing strange going on at the dinner table that night were the inexplicable smirks that sometimes crossed Alya’s face when she and Adrien made eye contact, always followed by Adrien’s face paling for some reason as he glanced away hurriedly. Marinette had asked Alya what that had been about as they were all leaving, but Alya merely winked and said it was between her and Adrien. Needless to say, this answer did not comfort Marinette in the slightest…but she had her own problems to contend with at the moment.

The next day, the four of them escorted Erika to Roissy airport, where her flight back to Italy was due to leave in an hour.

The problem? Erika had been in the bathroom for about twenty minutes now, and showed no signs of emerging any time soon. And Adrien was getting antsy.

“She still has to go through security,” he said again, frowning as he checked his watch and threw another glance to the ladies’ room five meters away. “If she doesn’t hurry up, she could miss her flight.”

“Dude, relax,” Nino insisted, clamping a hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “It’s not the end of the world if she misses her flight. Italy’s only two hours away.”

“Yeah, but it won’t be _your_ phone Mr. Soriano calls, demanding to know where his daughter is,” Adrien grumbled.

“Yeah, he might think she’s been cat—I mean, _kid_ napped,” Alya corrected herself lazily, yet another inexplicable smirk crossing her face as Adrien tensed. He looked so put-out that Marinette took pity on him and got up from her seat.

“I’ll go check on her to make sure she isn’t sick or something,” she volunteered, and Adrien gave her a look so grateful it made her laugh.

“Thanks, Mari,” he said, and Marinette nodded, giving him a reassuring smile before she departed for the ladies’ room.

It was a huge bathroom, as the bathrooms in international airports tended to be, especially considering this was the second-busiest airport in all of Europe. Women of all shapes, sizes, ages, colors, and temperaments bypassed Marinette, clearly either in a hurry to relieve themselves, or in a hurry to get to their destinations. Marinette stayed out of the way as much as she could, searching for familiar dark, curly hair or a sunny disposition, but no women in plain sight fit the description, and Marinette cringed. She was going to have to go hunting for Erika in the stalls, wasn’t she? Oh boy…

As she sighed, wondering where in the world she should start, she suddenly picked up on a soft voice, speaking with an accent that was familiar. As Marinette passed the stalls, following the voice, she frowned when she realized she did not understand the language it was speaking in, though she was sure it _was_ Italian.

And, as she stopped to listen, she realized it wasn’t the _only_ voice she could hear.

“Liion, _per favore. E ‘proprio di due ore._ ”

“ _Ma io odio gli aerei! Mi ammalo!_ ”

“ _Lo so, ma…_ ”

As the soft voices continued to chatter in Italian, Marinette frowned, glancing down at the floor. There were only one pair of pumps that could be seen under the stall door, so who—

And then Marinette understood.

‘Liion’, huh…

Carefully, Marinette retraced her steps, slipping a little on the bathroom floor, though she just managed to catch herself on a nearby trash can. Blushing under the stares of two women passing by her, looking amused, Marinette straightened up, and then called in a loud voice down to the stall where Erika was hidden.

“Erika? Are you in here?”

There was a muffled squeak, and after a moment of scuffling sounds, Erika replied.

“Oh…yes! I…I will be right out!”

An obligatory flush of a toilet later, Erika emerged, looking furtive as she stepped out of the stall. She gave Marinette her brightest smile, though if Marinette looked closely, she could see the edge of nervousness there, as if Erika was afraid Marinette had heard her…ahem, ‘talking to herself’.

Rather than calling her out, Marinette smiled back, watching as Erika moved to the sink to wash her hands.

“Sorry to rush you, but Adrien’s worried you’re going to miss your flight.” She raised a dark eyebrow at Erika’s reflection in the mirror. “Apparently, your father scares him.”

Erika let out a giggle that was equal parts amused and exasperated.

“Papa is…protective,” Erika explained, taking care to remove her rings before she waved a hand in front of the motion sensor, and water came gushing out of the faucet. “I am an only child, and he does not like it when his _principesa_ strays too far.” Erika wrinkled her nose. “It was…difficult…to ask him to let me study in America. Very difficult.”

“Oh, that’s right, Adrien mentioned you went to college in America,” Marinette acknowledged as Erika held her hand out in front of the soap dispenser next, working the liquid soap into a lather between her wet hands. “What was it like?”

Erika laughed.

“It was very different! Never have I seen a place with so many cultures all together at once! Though I have to say, the food is better in Italy…and the fashion is better here.” Erika’s reflection smiled at Marinette. “And the company is lovely here as well.”

Marinette returned the smile, sensing an opening.

“Really? Even with the akuma attack?”

Erika blinked, her smile fading as she inspected Marinette’s expression, absentmindedly rinsing her hands.

“Yes…that was a surprise. I…did not know what akuma attacks here were like until now…”

Marinette approached Erika’s side as she moved to the hand dryer. Her brow was puckered as she stuck her hands into the automated drying machine, looking awfully thoughtful about something. Marinette tilted her head to the side, curious.

“What’s the matter?”

“Ah…nothing,” Erika mumbled, pulling her hands out and patting them dry the rest of the way on her jeans, her eyes still far away. “I am just…recalling something…”

As Erika continued to ponder whatever was on her mind, she was unaware of her surroundings; Marinette had to take her elbow and move her to the side as a tall woman rushed in, the strain in her face suggesting she was about to burst. The movement brought Erika back to her senses, and she cringed in apology.

“Ah…thank you.”

“No problem,” Marinette replied with a slight smile and a shrug, “but I’m curious now—what’s got you so distracted that I have to save you from being bowled over by women who have to pee?”

Erika giggled, looking amused before the look faded once again, replaced by a frown that marred her pretty features.

“I do not think it is important…just…something about the akuma attack yesterday is…bothering me.”

“Why?”

“Well…” Erika paused, sizing Marinette up, as if she was trying to decide whether it was worth getting into this conversation. Marinette smiled encouragingly, a gesture Erika returned without hesitation before she gave a tiny nod. “Do not tell Adrien this, please…but I was there when the akuma attack happened.”

“Really?” Marinette asked, making her eyes wide, as if this news surprised her. Erika giggled again and held a finger to her lips.

“Yes. I was, ah, hiding. Out of sight. But I was watching.” Her expression grew serious. “The first akuma, the fake one…it crumbled. Like ash. And just now, I remembered—I have seen this before.”

Marinette’s attention suddenly increased by two hundred percent. She had just been hoping for some sort of confirmation of Erika’s Miraculous identity…but was this conversation about to be more informative than she expected?

“Where?” She questioned, though she had to work to make her tone more polite, since it wouldn’t do to appear too interested in this…

The thoughtful expression was back on Erika’s face as she twirled a strand of her hair around her finger.

“In America. In my travels, I have learned this—Miraculous heroes exist everywhere. I know of two in Italy, Camille and Pavone, and there are a few more in America. When I studied in New York, I learned of one there.” Her frown grew more pronounced. “She called herself ‘Shade’.”

‘Shade’? Marinette had never heard of her…but then again, she had never heard of Camille either, until she appeared just yesterday…

“What was Shade’s Miraculous?”

“It was, ah, _serpente,_ ” Erika replied, cupping the elbow of her right arm, letting her hand snap forward and swaying her forearm from side to side. “The snake.”

A chill ran down Marinette’s spine, a pair of bright yellow eyes surfacing from her memory, accompanied by an ominous hissing sound…

“And…what about yesterday’s akuma attack reminded you of Shade?”

“The crumbling,” Erika answered, her fingers recreating the effect in the air. “I never saw myself, only in videos, but it was recorded that Shade could create objects from nothing, but only to create illusions. The minute they were touched, they broke.”

“That… _does_ sound like the fake akumas…” Marinette frowned at the floor, gripping her chin in thought. Okay…so what did this new information mean for Team Miraculous, exactly? Were the fake akumas exactly that? Illusions?

And if they were…then what did that say about the true identity of The Butterfly?

Was this so-called hero named ‘Shade’ working with the Butterfly? Or…

“…I was told she is dangerous,” Erika said softly, breaking through Marinette’s train of thought. Marinette glanced over to find the Maserati heiress watching her, her dark eyes tight with worry.

“…Why? Because of the illusions?” Marinette wondered, but Erika shook her head.

“No. Because of her _other_ gift. It is more subtle, and therefore, it makes her more dangerous.” Erika gestured to her mouth, twirling a finger through the air. “She is said to have a silver tongue, the power of…uh, the word is…ah, I know: persuasion.” Now Erika brought the tips of her fingers to her temples, touching them briefly before throwing them out, towards Marinette’s head. “She speaks with honey and velvet, and because of this, it is said that she can convince the most peaceful of rulers to go to war, and make them think that the idea was their own in the first place.”

“That… _does_ sound dangerous,” Marinette mumbled, transfixed, as if Erika had hypnotized her. Erika gave a slow nod, looking grim.

“Yes. I am…not sure if yesterday was her doing. It could be that I am wrong. I hope that I am.”

Glancing down to her wrist, where a delicate little watch was nestled, Erika gave a squeak, shattering the serious moment.

“Oh, I am late! I need to hurry!”

Oh, right, plane to catch. Marinette had almost forgotten.

As she followed Erika out of the bathroom, something else occurred to Marinette that needed to be said, and she took hold of Erika’s wrist for a brief moment.

“Hold on,” she cautioned when Erika glanced back at her, looking startled. “There’s something I want to say to you. It’s, uh, regarding our interrupted conversation yesterday afternoon…”

Understanding flashed through Erika’s eyes, and she turned to Marinette, her arms folded behind her back.

“Yes?”

Marinette took a deep breath, and a moment to gather her thoughts. She had hardly slept last night, tossing and turning on the issue that had presented itself yesterday: Chat or Adrien? Adrien or Chat? Only after confirming with herself that she was only still considering Chat on the _very slim chance_ that he stopped seeing whoever he was seeing, she had done all the standard decision-making things—she had made list of the pros and cons of both men (no matter how long or hard she thought about it, they were even on both sides), she had tried to reason out who would make a better husband in the long run (she only talked herself in circles about the potentially dorky or cheesy things Adrien or Chat might do if she ended up marrying one of them), and she had, in a fit of desperation, even flipped a coin to try and leave it up to Fate (it rolled across the floor and disappeared into the air vent, never to be seen again).

In the end, Marinette made herself sit down and think about one very important question: which of the two was least likely to break her heart?

From that perspective, Marinette found the answer came easier, and though half of her felt it was unfair to judge the candidates on things she had already forgiven them for, she could not deny that past sins did indeed weigh heavily here.

And, while one man had said very hurtful things to her a mere few days after they reconnected, the other had broken her heart and her trust, and had left her hanging for a very, very long time before he finally saw the error of his ways.

In that context, the choice was painfully clear.

“I just want you to know,” Marinette began slowly, feeling out her words as she spoke them, trying to make her meaning clear, “that you don’t have to worry. I care about Adrien, a lot. And the last thing I would ever want to do is hurt him.” She squared her shoulders, looking Erika dead in the eye. “And, no matter what our relationship becomes in the future, whether it’s friends, or lovers, or whatever…I’ll always be there for him. This I can promise you.”

Erika stared at Marinette for a long, measured moment…

And then a bright, joyous smile broke out on her face, sending a rush of warmth through Marinette at the sight. Erika rushed forward, catching Marinette in another surprise hug, though Marinette laughed and returned the enthusiasm this time as best she could before Erika pulled back, her dark eyes shining as she stared up at Marinette.

“You are amazing. You know this, Marinette, yes?” Erika gushed, and Marinette laughed a little breathlessly.

“Well, I like to think so, yeah,” she teased, giving a wink. “Some might say…miraculous, even.”

Erika blinked, giving Marinette a curious look, but a shout from Adrien distracted her as he beckoned them both to make haste.

“Ah, coming!” With another smile thrown to Marinette, Erika hurriedly obeyed the summons. Marinette began to follow her…but then she paused, staring at the little face that peered at her from a part in the back of Erika’s dark hair, near her neck. The little face was green with dark eyes, and when its gaze met Marinette’s, it smiled and pressed one of three fingers to its mouth before it simply…vanished from view. Marinette stared at the place where it had been, cocking her head to the side, a curious smile forming on her face.

She would probably never know this for sure…but she had a sneaking suspicion that Liion was probably a mischievous little kwami.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Chat Noir calls Emerald Shell a "Lettuce Lover" in Italian. Hardly scathing; he mostly says it to irritate Shell with a name he doesn't understand.
> 
> And in the bathroom, Liion complains about hating airplanes because she get airsick, despite the fact that Erika reminds her that the flight will only be two hours. Travelling with that kwami is probably a pain in the ass. XP
> 
> It's canon that Erika uses a little more Italian when she's pissed about something, or when she can't remember the correct word at first when she's speaking another language.
> 
> This chapter (the past three chapters, really) are dedicated to tumblr user madmadamemimble, for without her help, Erika Soriano/Camille would not exist. Thanks, Mims! <3
> 
> Next chapter, we'll finally, FINALLY have the Valentine's Day chapter, which I have been anticipating for a number of reasons~ 'Til then...I leave you here to speculate. :D
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	25. Coincidence...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know it's an Important Chapter™ when I let it be as long as it is: forty-five pages. XP
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

He looked so old.

Nino felt trepidation humming through him as he took in Master Fu’s appearance—his face had more lines and liver spots than the last time Nino had seen it, his hair pure white now, and thinning, contrasting the white beard growing longer and thicker from his chin. His gnarled hands stroked through it, the movement stiffer than usual, as if it took more effort for the old master to move now.

It was official: for as long as he had eluded it, old age had caught Master Fu at last. And it wasn’t pulling any punches.

Nino and Marinette sat across from the old master in a cozy little lounge bar in _Quartier Chinois._ Nino had been surprised at first when Master Fu had led them there, commenting that he thought the old master was strictly a tea guy. Master Fu had chuckled and said that the occasional alcoholic beverage was healthy as well. Nino and Marinette had exchanged glances at that, but neither of them had argued, so here they were.

It seemed Master Fu was considered something of a regular—everyone in the bar greeted him as soon as he came in, and he stopped to chat with one or two people for a moment before moving to one of the unoccupied tables, ordering a simple cask of ginger beer for the table to share. Normally, Nino wasn't a beer guy, but he had to admit, after Master Fu had poured him a glass, the ginger gave it a little something. As he drank, Marinette handled most of the conversation in a hushed tone—they were in public, so that meant no raised voices, and no kwami sightings. This would be a very low-key meeting, Nino suspected.

“Shade,” Master Fu said, pronouncing the name slowly, as if to test it on his tongue. Beside Nino, Marinette nodded.

“Have you heard of her before?”

Master Fu fell silent, closing his eyes. If he hadn’t continued to stroke his beard, Nino would have thought he had fallen asleep.

“Not so much her…but I believe I have heard of such a thing as a Snake Miraculous before.”

“Really?” Marinette asked, surprise etched into her features. Master Fu opened his eyes, smiling at Marinette.

“Just because I was the Guardian to a specific set of Miraculous does not mean that other Miraculous do not exist in the world,” he reminded Marinette, whose expression grew sheepish.

Nino smiled to himself. He hadn’t been particularly surprised when Marinette divulged this new information of a character named ‘Shade’ to him—training under Master Fu had taught him that there were many mysteries about the Miraculous that had yet to be discovered in their entirety. It _did_ surprise him when she mentioned, casual as anything, that Camille was actually Erika…but that was neither here nor there right now.

“What we don’t know,” he chimed in, “is whether what we’re dealing with now _is_ the ‘Shade’ chick Erika mentioned, or if it’s a coincidence or a copycat.”

“Which is why we came to you,” Marinette added, folding her hands in her lap as she watched Master Fu anxiously. “We need to know if fake akumas are a part of the Butterfly Miraculous’ powers, or if we should be looking for something else entirely.”

“Hmm,” Master Fu hummed, closing his eyes again as he thought, stroking his beard pensively. “The Butterfly Miraculous has been lost to me for quite some time…but to my knowledge, it should not be able to create false akumas.”

Nino watched as Marinette frowned down at her lap, gripping her chin in thought. Nino was privately amused at that, wondering if she, too, would be stroking her beard if she had one.

“So this is the work of someone else,” she surmised, seemingly talking to herself, for the most part. “If this is the same Shade Erika mentioned, what would be her motivation to come to France and help The Butterfly?”

“You don’t think it’s the same Shade Erika was talking about?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Marinette admitted with a huff, glancing up at Nino with a cringe. “The way Erika described her, she was supposed to be a hero in America.”

Nino frowned.

“Someone who can get inside your head and manipulate you into doing bad things, all while making you think you _want_ to do them?” He raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like Hawk Moth to me.”

“Well…when you put it _that_ way…”

“So,” Master Fu cut in, his quavering voice still strong, despite his appearance, “what will you two do?”

Nino and Marinette stared blankly at him.

“Um,” Nino said, feeling awkward as he rubbed the back of his head, “well, we were hoping you could, uh, tell us where we should go from here.”

This appeared to amuse Master Fu.

“Really?” He asked, folding his hands around his half-empty glass as he peered at Nino and Marinette. “And why would I do that?”

“Because you’re our mentor,” Marinette pointed out, giving Master Fu a strange look, as if she was concerned about his mental state. Master Fu laughed at this, the tail end of it ending in a wheezing cough that had both Marinette and Nino glancing at each other in concern.

“I may be here, should you need guidance,” Master Fu said, that strange, mirthful glint still in his eyes as he looked at them, “but I think you are both too old for a mentor.”

“Age has nothing to do with this,” Marinette insisted, her tone a bit too severe, in Nino’s opinion. But he guessed she was just as concerned as he was, with Master Fu’s mortality now staring them in the face. “I don’t care if I’m forty-five and still doing this—you’ll always be my mentor, Master Fu.”

Master Fu smiled at this.

“Thank you for saying so, Marinette. But I’m not going to live forever. And that’s fine,” he added when Nino and Marinette exchanged another frown. “No one is meant to live so long, you know. Death comes for us all, in the end. It is a fact of life, one I am unconcerned with.

“But while I _am_ still here, it would be unwise to rely on me too often to plot your next moves for you,” he continued after a sip of ginger beer, suddenly businesslike. “It is a dangerous habit to fall into—if you are always asking and never seeking for yourselves, what will you do once I am gone?”

“So in other words,” Nino said, eyeing Master Fu shrewdly, “we’re on our own for this one.”

Master Fu smiled at him.

“It is simpler than you believe, to move forward on your own.” Master Fu set down his glass, peering at both of them in that way that always made Nino feel that Master Fu held all the secrets of the universe, and if they wanted to know them, they had to ask the right questions. “Think for a moment. A new lead has been presented to you—the mystery of a being called ‘Shade’. You know nothing concrete about this being, but hearsay tells you that she possesses the Snake Miraculous, that she was active in America some time ago, and that the powers she possesses are similar to what you have encountered in your clashes with The Butterfly. None of this is supported by any proof you have found yourself, but merely on the words of a friend, an ally.”

Master Fu folded his hands in his lap, surveying them wisely, and Nino felt a test of some sort coming on—

“Where do you go from here?” Master Fu inquired, smiling slightly, like he was secretly enjoying a game of wits, where only he was keeping score. Granted, he was cheating by practically leading them to the answer, despite what he said about not relying on him for said answers, but…

From the corner of his eye, Nino saw Marinette frown, looking frustrated. It seemed like she was expecting more solid advice from Master Fu, rather than an impromptu quiz. Honestly, Nino was surprised that she expected anything else…but perhaps his one-on-one training with Master Fu had taught him more about the old man than Marinette’s occasional visits with him.

Since Marinette appeared to be busy wrapped up in her annoyance, it was Nino who answered.

“Internet.”

Blinking, Marinette turned to frown at him next.

“What?”

Nino gave a shrug.

“Erika said she never saw these ‘abilities’ of Shade up close, right? Only through videos?” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully. “Wouldn’t watching said videos tell us more about what we might or might not be dealing with, if it _is_ this Shade chick that’s helping The Butterfly? Hell, we’ll probably find more than videos if she was as infamous as Erika made her out to be.”

Marinette’s lips parted in surprise, her eyes alight with sudden understanding.

“Ohhhh,” she huffed, smacking the heel of her palm to her forehead. “ _Duh._ Why didn’t I think of that?”

“This is why it’s good to have friends, ‘Nette.”

“Speaking of friends,” Master Fu interrupted, and Nino turned to find him stroking his beard again, regarding him and Marinette curiously, “I notice that a certain someone is missing from this meeting…”

“…Oh, you mean Whiskers?” Nino realized after a moment of confusion. He frowned at the expectant look on the old master’s face. “We never bring him with us, though.”

“Not even now that he has returned to fight at your side?” Master Fu questioned, his eyes going to Marinette, who flushed under his gaze.

“Um…w-we don’t know who he is, underneath the mask,” she mumbled, looking uncomfortable for reasons that would probably make Nino sigh, if his suspicions were correct.

“Hmm.”

Nino didn’t like the sound of that ‘hmm’.

“You’re not saying we should reveal ourselves to him, are you?” He questioned, remembering to keep his voice low. Master Fu stroked his beard and closed his eyes again, taking his time with this answer.

“That depends on you, of course,” he said in the end, opening his eyes to watch Nino and Marinette. “If you feel you can trust him, then it stands to reason that you’ll be better-coordinated with each other, if you know each other in your civilian lives as well.” He raised a hand, gesturing between Nino and Marinette. “You two are able to provide support to each other—at a moment’s notice, if necessary—because you know how to contact each other outside of the suits. Perhaps, ah…‘Whiskers’ should be afforded the same courtesy.” Master Fu paused, stroking his beard once more, his gaze locked with Nino. “He is under the most pressure at the moment. Extra support from his allies would most definitely be appreciated.”

Nino frowned, feeling personally attacked. Yes, he was starting to trust Chat Noir, but it was a slow process, _especially_ when he was working to make sure Marinette didn’t get too cozy with him before she made up her mind about which blonde man she wanted to commit to. To even think about revealing his identity to a perfect stranger, even if that stranger was working his ass off to redeem himself in the eyes of his allies and the whole of Paris itself—

“I don’t know,” Marinette mumbled, and Nino glanced over to find her face bright red, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. “That kind of decision…that kind of trust…I-I don’t know.”

Huh. Nino wasn’t the only reluctant one here, it seemed…

Master Fu seemed to measure Marinette with his eyes for a brief moment, before he nodded in understanding.

“It is a decision that should not be rushed into, or taken lightly.” He took up his glass again after refilling theirs as well, taking a measured sip. “However, speaking from a mentor’s point of view…it is a decision I feel should be given due consideration.”

Marinette glanced up at Master Fu, and Nino saw the glint of something in her eyes…something she was burning to know…

“You…know him, don’t you?” She asked, her voice more hushed than usual, as if they were suddenly discussing something forbidden. “You know who he is under the mask.”

“Naturally,” Master Fu replied with a smile. “I was the one who gave him the ring he still wears to this day.”

Marinette was fidgeting, Nino couldn’t help but notice. She looked uncomfortable, at war with herself—her fingers twisted in her lap, her leg bounced in an agitated fashion, and her teeth kept sinking further and further into her bottom lip, as if she was trying to physically restrain words from escaping her mouth—

After a tense moment of struggle, she appeared to cave.

“What’s he like?” She asked, leaning forward and watching Master Fu with such intensity that Nino felt she was trying to see right through the old master. He almost told her to chill, but Master Fu only chuckled, his dark eyes alive with mirth and a little bit of something else…mischief?

“If you would like to know so badly, Marinette…I think you should ask him to show you sometime,” he answered simply, as Nino expected he would. Marinette slumped back in her seat. She was clearly disappointed, but she gave a nod all the same. Nino reached over and patted her on the back, hoping a simple gesture would take the sting out of her disappointment.

“Well,” Master Fu began after quiet had settled at the table, “now that that’s all out of the way…won’t you enjoy one more drink with this old man before you go?”

“Of course,” Nino replied for the both of them, raising his full glass in a toast. “To your health, Master Fu.”

“And to your eventual victory,” Master Fu added, raising his own glass for a moment, and Nino clinked his glass against his.

“And to peace in Paris,” Marinette tacked on after a moment. She lifted her glass, and Nino clinked his glass against hers as well before the three of them drank. They made small talk for a while after, and once the pitcher of ginger beer was empty, Marinette and Nino accompanied Master Fu home before they left _Quartier Chinois,_ the light of the nearly full moon guiding them. It was called a waxing gibbous, Nino believed…but he didn’t dare say so out loud. Alya teased him about being a moon nerd enough as it was; he didn’t need Marinette jumping on that particular bandwagon as well.

Marinette moved in silence beside him, looking lost in thought. Nino almost asked what was on her mind…but then figured he probably didn’t want to know. Besides, if it was important, she’d share it with him…he hoped…

In the meantime, he felt it was probably best to discuss the other thing that had been nagging at him for a couple days now.

“Hey ‘Nette…have you noticed how, uh, _chummy_ Alya and Adrien have gotten lately?” Nino asked as they climbed into Marinette’s car. She frowned to herself as she inserted her keys into the ignition, and the pink VW Beetle rumbled to life.

“Yeah, I have…do you know what’s up with that?”

Nino gave a shrug as Marinette pulled into the road after checking her mirrors and blind spot.

“No. I’m wondering if we should be worried, though.”

“Not if we don’t want to be hypocrites,” Marinette pointed out dryly, and Nino chuckled uncomfortably.

“True. It’s not like I’m worried about it, but…seems pretty sudden, don’t you think?”

“A little. I can’t really guess why…unless they’re hanging out to get back at us for ditching them all the time?”

“I don’t think that’s it…well, whatever it is, can’t be _that_ bad, right? It’s just Alya and Adrien.”

“Right. How much trouble can the two of them get into, with Adrien’s charm—”

“—and Alya’s diabolical brain…”

They paused and glanced at each other nervously.

“…I don’t think we should think about this anymore,” Marinette mumbled.

“Yeah, I think we’re better off not knowing, if just suspecting is gonna give me chills.”

“I think we should just be grateful that they like _us_.”

“True.”

 

* * *

 

“…Alya, we’ve been looking for hours now. I really don’t think it’s here.”

“Fuck you, it _is_ here,” Alya snarled, her hands frantically searching through the many, many comics under her hands that were _not_ the comic she was looking for. “I don’t care if I have to tear this whole damn shop apart, I _will_ find it!”

“She’s kidding,” Alya heard Adrien hastily say to someone; she spared a brief glance, noting the nervous look of the shop worker as he eyed her nervously. Good. She bared her teeth at him for good measure and resumed her search, hell-bent. There was _no way_ that it wasn’t here—Alya had followed the development of this comic religiously, had eagerly anticipated its release for _months._ There was _no fucking way_ that it wasn’t here _somewhere—_

“AH-HA!” Alya finally cried in triumph, yanking out the first issue of “Fin Lad and Flame Lass” the moment she spotted the familiar cover art. “ _Finally!_ See, Agreste, I _told_ you it was—wait a minute, why is this in the discount bin?!” She whirled on a nearby shop worker, nearly shoving the comic in her face in outrage. “Do you people have _no_ taste?! This is going to be a _classic_ one day, and you throw it in the discount bin like its _trash?!_ Do you _hate_ money?!”

“Alya, _please,_ ” Adrien hissed, and Alya was abruptly yanked backward, away from the petrified worker. Damn, his angelic face was hiding some serious strength; she totally forgot. “Sorry. She’s just…enthusiastic.”

“Shit, _cheerleaders_ are enthusiastic,” Alya huffed, wriggling from his grasp and holding the comic up over her head in triumph. “I’m motherfuckin’ _ecstatic_ over here! And you said we wouldn’t find it, hah! Suck it, Agreste!”

Adrien lifted a golden brow at her.

“I had no idea you were so…into comic books,” he admitted, looking embarrassed as Alya went into her standard ‘I-found-the-thing-I-was-looking-for-despite-the-haters-so-in-your-face’ victory dance. Once she processed his comment, she snorted.

“What, and you’re not?”

“Well, I like comic books…but I don’t think I’m anywhere near _your_ level of liking them…”

“Then you need to get good, scrub,” Alya commented with a smirk, plucking at the comics he was clutching. “And what are you buying? DC or Marvel?”

“Marvel. I like Spiderman,” Adrien replied as he and Alya lined up at the counter to properly gain their spoils of war. Alya turned to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Hmm…a superhero in a red costume who swings around the city fighting crime…I cannot fathom your tastes, Agreste.”

“Shh,” Adrien urged her, looking around furtively. Alya snorted at him once again.

“What’re you so self-conscious about? You’re not any different from anyone else who’s a fan of Ladybug. Besides,” she added with a proud flip of her hair, “ _I’m_ her number one fan, so once again, you need to get on my level before you can start getting all blushy over there.”

Adrien was quiet for a while as they paid for their comics. Once they moved to the sitting area of the comic book shop, he spoke up.

“Well, technically, I’ve known her longer…so I would say _I’m_ her number one fan.”

Alya lowered her glasses for a moment to stare at him, wanting to check that he was _indeed_ daring to spout such blasphemy.

“Are you challenging me for the throne, Agreste?”

Adrien smiled at this, playfulness alight in his gaze.

“I believe you’re challenging _me_ for _my_ throne, Cesaire.”

Alya’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline.

“Oh, kitty has claws,” she noted, smirking as Adrien cringed; he was too easy to make fun of now. Setting her precious comic to the side for now, she leaned forward in her chair, her smirk evolving into a grin. “You sure you wanna dance this dance with me?”

“I have to defend my title,” Adrien replied with a shrug, the nonchalant gesture ruined by his smirk. “Be careful though: if you’re aiming for the king, you best not miss.”

‘ _What a little shit,_ ’ Alya reflected to herself, amused. He never acted like this when the four of them were hanging out—he could be cheeky, sure, but he chose his moments instead of being all out… _Chat Noir._ Maybe he was more comfortable showing this side of himself now that Alya knew the truth?

Either way, Alya was going to have to break this little delusion of his. Partner or not, _no one_ knew Ladybug better than _she_ did.

“All right, let’s do this: Ladybug’s favorite color?”

“Pink,” Adrien answered immediately, and Alya cursed under her breath; she didn’t actually expect him to _know_ that, since many of Ladybug’s fans were deluded into thinking her favorite color was red, simply because that was the color of her costume. Alya grew weary of explaining over and over to the ignorant commenters on her blog that the two things were not the same.

Hmm…but then again, with the way she had witnessed Chat Noir acting around Ladybug, perhaps it wasn’t so surprising that he knew her favorite color…

“Her favorite landmark in Paris?” Adrien asked Alya, who rolled her eyes.

“The Eiffel Tower, _duh._ ” What did he take her for, an amateur? Even without her ace in the hole, Alya had interviewed Ladybug so many times that her knowledge of the woman—in and out of the mask—was nigh unbeatable. She ate, slept, and _breathed_ Ladybug facts. Adrien was going to have to do a lot better than that.

“Favorite food?” Alya shot at him. Adrien paused, his brow furrowing, and Alya’s grin widened, certain that she had him—

“Do you mean actual food or sweets?” He asked, smirking when Alya’s face fell. “Because her favorite meal is stir fry, but her favorite sweets depend on the kind of day she’s had. If it’s a normal day, anything with strawberry is good, but if it’s a bad day, then it’s chocolate, chocolate, and more chocolate.” Adrien snorted at the dismayed look Alya wore. “Oh come on. Didn’t you expect me to know _this_ much, at least?”

‘ _Cheeky bastard,_ ’ Alya thought uncharitably, her frown growing in tandem with his smirk. Okay…so he knew a little more than she was expecting. But so what? It still didn’t mean that he knew Ladybug _better_ than Alya did—

“Deepest fear?” Adrien asked, and Alya raised her eyebrows at him. Oh, so they were suddenly upping the ante, were they…?

“Losing control,” Alya said after some thought, frowning to herself as she carefully worded her answer. This wasn’t strictly true in regards to Ladybug, exactly; Alya was drawing more on her knowledge of Marinette than anything. But since they were the same person, it wasn’t _exactly_ cheating… “Because she’s Ladybug, she feels she’s supposed to handle anything that comes her way…so when something doesn’t go to plan, it stresses her out for a bit before she finds a way around it.”

When Alya blinked herself out of her thoughts, it was to find Adrien watching her, surprise rounding his green eyes. She grinned.

“I’m not the moderator of the Ladyblog for nothing, you know,” she teased him. Adrien blinked a couple times, giving a hesitant smile in return.

“Right…well…” he cleared his throat, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “It’s your turn to ask a question.”

Alya watched him for a moment, thinking. It was probably a bad idea for her to let on that she knew more than she was supposed to…but ever since finding out his catty little secret, she was constantly wondering: did Adrien _really_ not know…?

“Ladybug’s real name?” She asked before she could talk herself out of it. Adrien sputtered, blinking in surprise at her.

“Wh—that’s not a fair question,” he complained immediately. Alya didn’t reply right away, watching his reactions critically. Adrien frowned under her gaze. “Seriously, it’s not. Neither of us know the answer, so even if I _did_ give you a name, you wouldn’t know if it’s right or not anyway, right?”

He didn’t know. He sincerely didn’t know.

Adrien Agreste was every bit as clueless over Ladybug’s identity as he appeared. The poor sap.

Alya inwardly sighed. As tempting as it was to tease him about her ace in the hole…she couldn’t bring herself to be _that_ cruel.

So she gave him a sheepish grin instead.

“I suppose it is an unfair question,” she conceded, before smirking at him. “I thought it might be a safe bet, since you’re partners and you’re in love with her…but you’ve already said that neither she nor Emerald Shell knows who you really are, right?

Adrien flushed red, his jaw locking stubbornly.

“I am not in love with Ladybug,” he refuted with a frown, and Alya inwardly snickered over the fact that that was the only detail of her speculations he seemed to register. “I’m…sort of seeing Marinette, remember?”

Oh yes, Alya remembered.

And the irony was not lost on her whatsoever; she had to work not to say ‘same thing’ and keep her mouth shut. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t tease Adrien with this. It was not her secret to tell.

“Speaking of Marinette,” Adrien began, looking uncomfortable again as Alya’s gaze snapped to him once more. She took in his awkward expression, beginning to smirk.

“Are we finally going to discuss this ‘favor’ that made you follow me all the way here?”

“Well, I would’ve brought it up earlier, but you were so eager to find your comic—”

“Can you really afford to fall into more debt with me, Agreste?” Alya ribbed him, her smile becoming dangerous. “You know I’m going to ask you for something in return for whatever this ‘favor’ is, right?”

“Of course,” Adrien replied, though he looked more resigned than anything. “All magic comes with a price.”

“That it does. I’m glad you understand.” Alya took up her comic once again, pretending to be interested in the cover art more than the conversation. “So, what’s this ‘favor’?”

“Well…Valentine’s Day is coming…”

“Uh-huh?” Alya hummed, thumbing the corner of the plastic wrap that surrounded her comic, wondering whether she should open it now or wait until she got home. Hmm…

“I was just wondering…has Mari…mentioned it? Like, has she talked about a place she wants to go to, or…any plans about it? At all?”

Alya sighed, lowering her comic to her lap so her vision was unobstructed, enabling her to give Adrien a flat look.

“No. As a matter of fact, she _hasn’t_ mentioned it at all. In fact, she _refuses_ to talk about it because _someone_ won’t ask her _directly_ whether she has any plans for the day or not.”

Her pointed stare made Adrien blush and shift uncomfortably in his seat. Good.

“I just…I don’t know if she—”

“For god’s sake, Agreste, you’re twenty-two,” Alya cut him off with a shake of her head. “And you face danger on a _daily basis._ If you can fight akuma—”

“Not so loud, Alya—”

“—Then you can ask the woman you’re ‘sort of seeing’ out for Valentine’s Day, can’t you?” Alya finished, ignoring his protest. Adrien huffed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s complicated,” he insisted.

“Oh?” Alya drawled, crossing one leg over the other as she rested her head against her fist, raising an eyebrow in a “do tell” gesture. Adrien didn’t seem to appreciate this; he pouted at her before finishing his thought.

“Well, without delving _too_ deep into my fucked-up psyche, it’s like this: I don’t want to hurt Mari by getting into a relationship before I’m ready to actually be in one…but I really, _really_ want to spend Valentine’s Day with her.”

Alya watched, becoming amused as Adrien rested his chin in his hand, his eyes misting over, most likely entering that romantic headspace she’d seen him occupying whenever they talked about Marinette. Boy had it bad.

“I want to spoil her, buy her presents, take her out to a nice restaurant—”

“Get laid?” Alya suggested with a smirk, the realistic suggestion setting fire to Adrien’s face.

“I…well, I’d be lying if I said that didn’t cross my mind…” he shook his head, blonde locks flying. He seriously needed a haircut. “But it’s not about sex. I…I want to be with her, you know?”

Adrien sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I want to hear her talk about her day, whether it was good or bad. I want to hold her when she’s feeling down, or when she’s feeling happy, or for no reason at all. I want to see her smile when I make breakfast for her, or lunch, whatever. Being near her just makes my day, like, a hundred—no, a _million_ times better. And she doesn’t even _try._ She just has to be Marinette, and I’m…I like her so much…”

Though he was _seriously_ asking for it, Alya didn’t have the heart to make fun of him and his cheesiness; he looked so conflicted, trying to give her best friend due consideration while also wanting to be with her so much that it seemed like he actively had to restrain himself. Boy was so far gone that he no longer knew what to do with himself. It was cute…if not a little bit sad.

Shaking her head a little, Alya reached forward, patting his knee.

“You know, Adrien: all that stuff you just said? That’s part of being in a relationship,” she pointed out gently, smiling a little when Adrien glanced at her. “And if you want to do all that stuff so badly…I think you might be ready to be in one.” She sat back, smiling easily. “But that’s just my opinion. It’s not like I’m smarter than you or anyth— _oh wait._ ”

“Ha ha,” Adrien said dryly, though he was smiling a little as well. “You and Nino are too much alike.”

“Which is why we’re perfect for each other,” Alya surmised, flashing her engagement ring with a smirk. “Anyway, we still haven’t gotten to the issue: what’s your favor, exactly? Just advice?”

“Well…I was thinking more of what Marinette’s favorite brand of chocolate is, whether or not she’d let me buy her jewelry…maybe a restaurant you know she likes?”

Alya let her elbows rest on the armrests of her chair, locking her fingers together as she surveyed Adrien over the tops of her hands.

“This is sacred information you’re asking for, Agreste,” she said gravely. “It’s gonna cost you more than a simple favor.”

“Even if it makes your best friend happy?” Adrien tried, looking hopeful. Said hope faded from his expression immediately the minute Alya’s bloodthirsty grin appeared.

“ _Especially_ if it makes my best friend happy.” She paused, raising a finger. “But…I think I’ll be nice and give you the answers first, just this once.”

This did not appear to comfort Adrien; he eyed her warily instead, as if he sensed a trap. A wise reaction, in Alya’s opinion.

“…And what do you want in return for this information, Godmother?”

Alya smirked, resisting the urge to go along with the joke by telling him to kiss her ring.

“Oh, don’t worry—I’ll think of something.”

 

* * *

 

The twenty-second was next week.

Next. Week.

In just nine days— _nine days_ —the fate of Marinette’s future fashion career would be sealed.

But no pressure or anything.

It was only after Adrien accepted her final outfits—which were only present in photographs, given the fact that bringing them _all_ in on her own would’ve been a huge pain in the ass—that Marinette allowed herself to breathe. One hurdle down…

“You okay?” He asked, looking amused and concerned as she let out a huge breath.

“Yes,” she assured him, brushing her bangs out of her face and closing her eyes for a moment. “It’s just that it feels like February’ll disappear the minute I look away for too long, and then I’ll suddenly remember that I forgot a crucial part of the design, or one of the masks’ll fall apart at the last minute, or I’ll show up to Desiree’s class with my work next Wednesday and realize that I forgot to put on pants—”

“Mari,” Adrien interrupted, reaching a hand forward to squeeze her shoulder, “ _breathe._ ”

Marinette did so, inhaling deeply through her nose. She held it for three seconds, and then let it out slowly through her mouth. It didn’t help very much…but she could pretend.

“Thanks,” she said sheepishly as Adrien’s hand fell away from her shoulder. “And sorry. I’ll feel better once this is all over, it’s just the waiting that’s torture right now.”

“You’ll be fine,” Adrien assured her, giving her a wink. “And, speaking strictly from a professional’s point of view…I think you have a pretty good shot of winning this competition.”

Marinette fixed him with a stern look.

“Remember what I said—”

“I know, I know,” Adrien said, raising his hands in the air in surrender, a smirk twitching across his lips, “no favoritism. The feedback I’ll give Desiree will be nothing short of professional, promise.”

“Good,” said Marinette, getting to her feet as the obligatory beep from Adrien’s desk indicated that their time was up, and his next meeting was waiting. “I don’t want to give anybody the chance to say that I won for anything other than my talent.”

“Perish the thought,” Adrien agreed, moving over to his desk to answer his intercom. “Give me a couple more minutes, Sylvia.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow as Adrien turned back to her, something like awkwardness cracking through his professional mask.

“Why do we need a couple more minutes? Is there something wrong with one of my designs?”

“No,” Adrien denied with a slight shake of his head as he moved closer, “nothing like that. I…well.” He frowned, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand as he glanced away, his face reddening. “I know we’re supposed to keep these meetings professional…but I wanted to ask you something. About tomorrow.”

Marinette felt her heart give a hard thump before it picked up speed, her blood racing, body tingling with anticipation. On the outside, however, she worked to keep her expression politely interested.

“Oh?”

“Yeah…” Clearing his throat, Adrien gave a hesitant smile. “I was wondering—if you don’t have any other plans—would you…like to have dinner with me?”

Holy shit.

Adrien was asking her out.

On a _date._

_For Valentine’s Day._

Fourteen year old Marinette would have surely died of happiness…and twenty one year old Marinette wouldn’t blame her one bit.

Marinette felt herself blush, but she pushed past it, tapping her chin as she pretended to think about it.

“Hmm…I think all my other suitors are busy…so yes, I believe I’m free for dinner tomorrow night.”

“Whew,” sighed Adrien, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow…though if Marinette looked closely, she could see a certain amount of tension actually drain from his face. She stared at him, wondering if he was really so surprised that she would want to go out on a date with him. Was she being too subtle in her display of how much she liked him?

She knew she shouldn’t do what she was thinking of doing…but hell, Adrien had already made this personal. What was one more step in that direction?

Smirking, Marinette stepped closer to him, carefully stretching onto her toes to give him what she meant to be a quick kiss…but the minute their lips touched, something sparked between them, and before Marinette knew it, his arms were around her waist and her hands were buried in his hair, small gasps of air exchanged between them as they lost themselves in the taste of each other for a few precious seconds—

_Beep!_

“Mr. Agreste? It’s been two minutes. Should I send your next appointment up?”

“Damn it,” Marinette mumbled, laughing a little breathlessly as Adrien growled in frustration against her neck. “And we’ve been so good so far.”

“You started it,” Adrien reminded her, and Marinette stuck her tongue out at him when he pulled back to look at her.

“I’m finishing it, too.” She slid out of his grasp, smoothing down her blouse. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Adrien agreed, straightening his tie with a shifty grin that made Marinette smirk. “Pick you up at seven?”

“It’s a date,” Marinette promised, giving him a wink as she headed towards the elevator, pushing the ‘down’ button. As the doors slid open to admit her, she turned, giving Adrien a parting smile and some advice:

“By the way…though it is a good shade on you…you might want to wipe off my lipstick before you meet your next appointment.”

Marinette giggled, just able to glimpse Adrien turning red and running a hasty hand over his mouth, smearing the pink lipstick she had left there before the elevator doors shut, and she was descending. The illicit kissing had been worth it, just to see that expression on his face.

Marinette allowed a stupid grin to cross her features for a moment as she leaned against the back wall of the elevator. A Valentine’s Day date with one ex-supermodel/CEO Adrien Agreste…she never thought she’d see the day, honestly. When February began, she had been careful to keep her expectations low, not wanting to pressure him into anything, especially when he had been perfectly candid with her about not wanting to be in a relationship. Just because they were sort-of seeing each other didn’t mean that he was obligated to spend time with her on Valentine’s Day, after all. Hell, he had even told her that he would respect it if she didn’t want to wait for him, so if Marinette chose—

A familiar grin suddenly flashed through her mind, centered just below a black mask, green cat-like eyes gleaming from the darkness.

Marinette shook her head fiercely to put the image out of her head.

_No_. She had made her decision: she was sticking with Adrien. Even if he wasn’t ready to _be_ with her, he was still better for her in the long run than Chat Noir, even if they only stayed friends, with or without benefits. Besides, Chat Noir was seeing someone else, and was therefore off-limits. Marinette’s mind was made up, and she refused to debate the issue any further—at this point in time, it was either Adrien, or no one.

And, since a certain cat man was not included in that decision whatsoever, Marinette was just fine with that.

Once the elevator reached the ground floor, Marinette stepped out, giving Sylvia a passing smile and wave as she exited the building, rummaging through her purse for her phone. She hoped Alya was free to talk right now—if there was ever a time Marinette needed advice about underwear, it was now.

 

* * *

 

It really wasn’t fair.

Adrien had seen Marinette in all kinds of outfits at this point—mostly bundled up in the thickest set of winter clothes she could find—and he had seen what she looked like when she dressed for a night out, but _this_ —

“Hi,” Marinette greeted him as she came down the steps, pulling her white peacoat closed…but not before Adrien caught sight of the dark red dress he could see she was wearing underneath, cutting off just above her knees. And it was… _snug._

Adrien let his gaze linger too long; when he finally remembered _it was impolite to stare,_ he glanced up to find Marinette smirking at him, her lips dark red to match her dress. He had never seen her wear red before…it was a good look on her. Very good…

“See something you like?” Marinette teased him, and Adrien let out a chuckle that was slightly strained. It would be a miracle if he didn’t end up dead by the end of the night.

“You look beautiful,” he made sure to compliment her, although it was the understatement of the century. But Marinette smiled nonetheless.

“Thank you.” Her bluebell eyes simmered as she gave him a once-over so slow that Adrien felt himself blush from his neck all the way to the roots of his hair. After a moment, Marinette smiled a mischievous little smile, which didn’t help him cool down _at all._

“You look handsome as always, Mr. Model,” she teased, winking at him. Adrien grinned too widely; he tried to fix his expression, but too late, Marinette was already grinning at how stupid he must look. Why did he have to be so pleased with any kind of praise he received?

“Thanks. Ahem…shall we?” He asked, opening the passenger side door for Marinette, who grinned and slipped past him, so close that he could smell her perfume. It was something floral…mmm…

“No extravagant bouquet this time around?” Marinette asked as he slipped into the car beside her, starting the engine with a quiet purr. Adrien glanced at her, taking in her smile with a pinch of trepidation—did she want flowers? “I’m kidding,” she assured him before he could get too worked up, and Adrien sighed in relief.

“Yeah, sorry, no flowers this time…” Reaching into the backseat, Adrien pulled a pink, heart-shaped box into view, tied closed with an extravagant white ribbon. “Will chocolate do?”

“I can never say no to chocolate…especially not from my favorite chocolate shop,” Marinette replied, awe permeating her voice once she untied the ribbon and took note of the brand name stamped across the box. Adrien did a small, celebratory fist pump with his free hand as he pulled out into the road. Bless Alya. He really did owe her for this.

“Go ahead and try one,” Adrien encouraged, shooting a grin Marinette’s way as he drove. He could feel her gaze on his face, though he sternly told himself not to look at her too much, lest her beauty distract him and run them both off the road.

“Is that okay? I don’t want to spoil my dinner…”

Adrien snorted at the teasing lilt in Marinette’s voice.

“One little chocolate won’t ruin your appetite.”

“You assume I’ll be able to stop at just one,” Marinette pointed out, and Adrien laughed.

“I have faith in you.”

“That is faith wasted.” The sound of wax wrapping paper filled the car, followed by the soft crumble of chocolate…and then there was a satisfied sigh. Adrien smiled.

“So did I choose right?”

“ _So_ right,” Marinette mumbled around a mouthful of chocolate. “This filling is great: I _love_ strawberry-flavored stuff. Usually I save the chocolate for a bad day, but since tonight’s Valentine’s Day, it couldn’t hurt to indulge, right?”

Hmm. That sounded familiar…

“Indulge as much as you like, Mari,” he said, smiling warmly at her for a moment, keeping his eyes off the road long enough to notice her blush. She was so cute, to be so pleased with chocolate, when there was still one other present Adrien wanted to give her…ah, he’d better save it. It was more of a ‘after dinner’ present anyway.

Adrien had the pleasure of watching Marinette’s jaw drop when they pulled up to _Cygne_ , an elegant little restaurant that Alya had shown him, stating that it was Marinette’s goal to one day have a meal there in celebration of a large milestone in her life. He hoped she wouldn’t mind her first meal here being a Valentine’s Day date…

As he parked his car, Marinette turned to him, a spark of suspicion in her gaze.

“You owe Alya another favor, don’t you?”

“I do,” Adrien confirmed grimly, stepping out of the car and jogging around to open Marinette’s door for her. “I’m in hock up to my ears at this point with her.”

Marinette shook her head, blushing a little as Adrien slid an arm around her.

“You’re playing a dangerous game here, Mr. Agreste,” she warned him in a dire tone as he led her up the walkway to the restaurant, opening the door for her once again.

“I like to live dangerously from time to time,” he remarked with a wink, and Marinette muffled a giggle as they approached the maître d’, who, with the mention of Adrien’s name, led them immediately to their table.

The setting could not be more perfect—the restaurant glowed softly with candlelit chandeliers, and a jazz band played in a corner next to a small space where a few couples swayed to the music, loud enough to be pleasant, but soft enough where normal conversation could take place. Flowers in pinks and reds were arranged on each table, mini bouquets in celebration of the holiday. Adrien shed his coat and took his seat at their table, which was near the dance floor, mildly disappointed that the maître d’ was already pulling out Marinette’s chair for her after helping her out of her coat. Adrien saw that he wasn’t wrong about how snug that dress was on Marinette—it was like a second skin on her, clinging to every curve she possessed seamlessly, leaving her calves, arms, and shoulders exposed; a sweetheart neckline was at the top, and something resembling short sleeves, though they looked more like thin straps of red fabric, clung to her upper arms. She turned to thank the maître d’, and Adrien nearly choked—there were thin red straps criss-crossing all the way down to her lower back, leaving her back nearly bare, much of her pale, freckled skin exposed in the candle light—

‘ _Why don’t they serve water right away here?_ ’ Adrien wondered to himself, feeling himself flush as Marinette took her seat across from him, completely oblivious of the effect she was having on him. The date had barely started, and he was already overheated. And thirsty. He was very, very thirsty…

Luckily, their waiter did not take long. He smiled, greeted them, and filled their glasses with water while handing them menus to look over before taking their drink orders. Adrien ordered a bottle of merlot for the table, and the waiter left, promising to return soon. As he took a drink of water, Marinette quirked a brow at him.

“Showing off?”

Adrien cringed.

“Does it seem like it?”

“A little.” She smiled, the mischief in her gaze telling Adrien that she was enjoying herself so far. Good. “Are you trying to impress me, Mr. Agreste?”

“Noooo,” Adrien drawled with a careless hand wave, hastening to clap along with the dancing couples as the jazz band finished a number.

“Thank you,” said the jazz singer in a smooth, velvet voice. “Our next song is requested by Adrien A., dedicated to his date, Marinette. Happy Valentine’s Day, Marinette.”

As the band picked up another tune, Adrien turned, snickering at the way Marinette’s jaw dropped, her face flaming.

“ _Now_ I’m trying to impress you,” Adrien teased, getting up and offering his hand to Marinette. “Dance with me?”

Marinette smiled, pushing her chair back and taking his hand. She had gotten her nails done for the occasion, too—a sparkling red to match her dress. She had really gone all out tonight, huh? Well, her assassination attempt against him was working so far.

“You won’t let me fall, right?” She wanted to check as she carefully stood, drawing Adrien’s attention to her very high red heels, the sight of them impressing Adrien; he knew some models who would have some trouble maneuvering in such cute little death traps, but Marinette was handling them well.

To put her mind at ease, Adrien slid an arm around her, drawing her flush against him.

“Never,” he promised Marinette, smiling as her blush grew. He led her onto the dance floor, keeping his eyes on her the whole time. He had been so distracted by her dress when he first saw her that he hadn’t fully taken in the little details about her appearance tonight—her hair was curled and pinned up in the back, the tail end of it bouncing against the back of her neck, and the fine chain of a necklace circled her neck, ending in a small blooming rose that rested a few centimeters above the neckline of her dress. Her earrings were…surprisingly simple, Adrien couldn’t help but note as they claimed a spot on the dance floor, revolving slowly on the spot to the soft jazz tune. In fact, those were the same earrings he was pretty sure she wore every day. It seemed like she never wore any other pair of earrings, like those were significant in some way…perhaps a family heirloom of some kind? Hmm…that could pose a problem for him later…

“What’s on your mind?” Marinette asked him, gently tugging Adrien from his thoughts with the sound of her voice. His gaze switched to her sparkling eyes as she watched him, a little smile playing across her lips. God, she was beautiful.

“Have I already told you how lovely you look tonight?” He asked, fully aware of the fact that he had. But Marinette giggled and blushed, which was his goal all along, so mission accomplished.

“If you keep complimenting me like this, I’m going to get spoiled,” Marinette warned him with a grin as he carefully twirled her around before bringing her back into the safety of his arms.

“I fail to see the problem,” Adrien remarked, answering her grin with one of his own. “I happen to _like_ spoiling you.”

“Really?” Marinette raised her eyebrows. “What if I start demanding that you bow and kiss my feet every time I leave or enter a room?”

“Then I shall worship you like the queen you are,” Adrien answered without missing a beat, and the redness in Marinette’s face climbed higher, her ears flushing along with the rest of her face.

“Y-you’re ridiculous,” she huffed, cringing at the stammer. Adrien chuckled, bringing her hand to his lips to place a kiss upon her knuckles.

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he teased. Marinette stuck her tongue out at him, her lipstick not even smudged after the fact. Hmm, must be quality. The lipstick she left on him yesterday was easy enough to get off, but he wondered if it would be the same for this brand…

Before he could try it for himself, the song ended, and he and Marinette applauded the band before deciding to return to their table. Their waiter was standing by; he brought the merlot to the table, letting Adrien test it first. Once he gave his approval, the waiter poured them generous measures of wine before asking if they were ready to order. Adrien glanced up at Marinette, raising a questioning brow.

“Ready when you are,” she replied, thumbing through her menu with a smile.

“Ladies first?” Suggested the waiter, and Marinette ordered a ceasar salad as an appetizer before requesting filet mignon with a side of garlic potatoes and fresh vegetables.

“And for the gentleman?”

“I’ll have the same,” Adrien said, handing his menu to the waiter, who once again promised to return soon. Marinette gave him an amused look as the waiter left.

“Didn’t feel like choosing your own entrée?”

Adrien gave a nonchalant shrug.

“You have good taste.”

“At least you’re no longer eating like a model.” Marinette openly eyed him, and Adrien fought the stupid grin he could feel trying to make a comeback from earlier. “You’ve filled out nicely.”

“Have you been checking me out, Miss Dupain-Cheng?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow, red lips tilting into a smirk.

“Is that a problem, Mr. Agreste?”

“Not at all.” He raised his glass. “How about a toast?”

“Are we toasting anything in particular?” Marinette teased him as she lifted her own glass. Adrien’s brow puckered as he pursed his lips, pretending to deliberate.

“How about to our good health?”

“A good toast…but it’s kind of vague,” Marinette critiqued, grinning. “Try again.”

“To world peace?”

“Aren’t you virtuous?”

“Not really,” Adrien replied, letting his gaze dip down once again to Marinette’s wardrobe. “My next toast was gonna be to that dress. Especially the back.”

Marinette grinned, clinking her glass against his at last before taking a sip of her wine.

“I thought you might like it,” she teased with a wink. “It’s an old design of mine, but I added that alteration at the last minute.”

“Even though you knew you’d be cold?”

Her smirk grew into a devious little smile that threatened to _ruin_ Adrien.

“I’m plenty warm right now,” she told him, the slightest touch of flirtation in her tone. Adrien swallowed, reaching for his water glass again. He had to calm down—the temptation to ask her to skip dinner and head back to his place was growing stronger by the second, and he wanted to do this _right._ He needed a distraction, quick!

His struggle must have been obvious—their waiter appeared again, setting down their salads and offering cheese and pepper. (Adrien opted only for the pepper, afraid of tempting Plagg, who was asleep in his coat pocket at the moment. Marinette asked for both.) After making the additions, the waiter wished for them to enjoy their salads, promised that their entrees would be ready soon, and left again. Bless that waiter—Adrien was going to leave him the biggest tip possible for his timing.

“Good?” He asked as Marinette dug into her salad, a little amused at the fervor with which she ate. At his comment, she flushed, carefully poking a corner of lettuce hanging from her lips into her mouth.

“I might have skipped lunch today,” she admitted sheepishly. In a quieter voice, she added, “I was…a little too excited about tonight to eat anything this afternoon.”

Adrien paused, his fork poised in the air, waiting for his attention. But he couldn’t focus on anything other than the telling blush that filled Marinette’s face, highlighting the freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks as she looked away from him, nibbling on her red bottom lip…

“I got you something,” Adrien blurted out before he could stop himself; it was his turn to flush now as Marinette glanced up at him in surprise. Damn it—he had been trying to wait until dessert to surprise her with the gift, but she was sitting there looking so adorable that he just _had_ to show her just how much he appreciated her, whether it be words or gesture. So he chose gesture this time, reaching behind him to dig into his coat pocket—whoops, wrong one, Plagg was in this one. He awoke from his nap and swiped at Adrien’s fingers for daring to invade said pocket, and Adrien bit back a curse. Huffing, he reached into his other pocket, fingers finally closing around the small box within. As he drew it out, Marinette’s gaze went to it for a brief moment before returning to his face, her lips parted in surprise.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she protested softly, as he knew she would. He chuckled and shook his head. When would she learn that Adrien no longer did anything because he _had_ to?

“I know.” He set the box down next to her plate. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Mari.”

Her face was turning as red as her dress, Adrien noted with amusement as Marinette picked up the box, a spark of excitement lighting her gaze; no matter what she said, Adrien knew she enjoyed these little gifts he gave her. Well, this one was not so little, but—

Her small intake of breath was like music to him, and her eyes grew wide as she inspected the flower-shaped earrings housed within the box for a brief moment before her gaze snapped to him, trepidation marring her surprise.

“These aren’t…pink diamonds, are they…?”

“Nope,” Adrien replied easily, smiling a little at the way Marinette’s shoulders slumped in relief, only to tense again when he added, “they’re pink sapphires.”

“Adrien—”

“Oh come on, it’s Valentine’s Day. Let me spoil you, please?” Adrien requested, pulling the face he knew she had trouble saying no to (though she did manage it from time to time). He watched her bite her lip again, her blue eyes dropping to the earrings. One of her hands wandered up to touch her earlobe, and her eyes tightened.

Oh…that didn’t seem like a good sign…

“…Unless you don’t like them?” Adrien wondered, working to keep his tone polite and hiding his disappointment. Hmm…now that he thought about it, Alya warned him against earrings when they were discussing jewelry choices, but Adrien had just thought it was because she was trying to push him into a ring of some sort (she didn’t bother trying to be subtle about it). But now, he realized that Alya must have known what she was talking about when she said no earrings…damn, but he just _had_ to buy them, because they were cute and pink and reminded him of Marinette—

“Oh, no!” Marinette protested with a hasty wave, looking contrite. “It isn’t that at all! It’s just…I—”

The restaurant suddenly gave an alarming tremor. Startled cries tore through the air, and Adrien seized Marinette’s hands, which had automatically clung to the table as the floor moved unnaturally below them. Adrien closed his eyes and suppressed a groan.

‘ _Please let it be an earthquake, please_ _for the love of god let it be an earthquake—_ ’

Because it had become silent in the restaurant, Adrien could hear it when the screams began outside, could hear the squeal of tires screeching across pavement, could hear the very chilling, very telling sound of diabolical laughter—

Needless to say, the people in the restaurant panicked.

As rich patrons called for their checks immediately and the jazz band began to pack up at the speed of light, Marinette and Adrien stood at the same time.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” they announced simultaneously before pausing and giving each other strange looks. Huh…this was a strange kind of déjà vu for Adrien…

“Meet back here?” He suggested, laying a hand on his coat, and Marinette nodded, grabbing the gift earrings off the table and stuffing them into her purse.

“Be safe,” she urged him, and she took off first, heading towards a back hall that looked promising. Adrien snatched his coat off his chair and started to follow her, but then he noticed there were men coming from another hall, one of them hastily zipping his fly shut as he rushed to get out of the restaurant.

“Marinette!” Adrien called after his date as she disappeared behind a door in the back. “Marinette, that’s the wrong way!”

She didn’t hear him amidst the chaos, and Adrien couldn’t go after her—there was no time. He assuaged his conscience by reasoning that she’d figure it out soon enough on her own before he sped off towards the men’s room, locking himself into an empty stall and releasing Plagg from his coat pocket.

“What? I’m doing what you said, I’m behaving! There’s no need to—” the kwami began to complain grumpily, looking annoyed at being roused from his nap once again. Adrien cut him off by shoving his ring in the kwami’s face.

“There’s an akuma we need to take care of. Get in the ring.”

Plagg’s green eyes peered up at Adrien as he rested his little arms on top of the ring, looking dispassionate.

“What about your date with your girlfriend?”

“That’s why I’m in a hurry,” Adrien huffed, running a hand through his carefully coiffed hair. “I want this taken care of before she notices that I’m gone too long.”

“Why not just let Ladybug handle it, then?”

“Because I can’t do that. Just because she can do it alone doesn’t mean she should.”

Plagg’s ears twitched, his eyes narrowing at Adrien.

“I thought you were over this thing with Ladybug already?”

“I am,” Adrien insisted, though he could feel himself turning red. “I’m…I’m working on it, okay? Just get in the damn ring.”

“What’s the password?”

“Transform me!”

Chat Noir slipped out of the bathroom window and clawed his way up to the roof of the restaurant, eyes scanning for signs of trouble. And he found them—there was something ripping up the pavement of the street below… _from_ below. Chat stared, his eyes narrowing as a bulbous head abruptly popped out from under the pavement, a whirling drill perched atop it as the figure gave another shout of laughter.

“Run! Scramble, little mice! You call this the day of love? Bleh! In my life, there is only the love of dirt!”

He tossed handfuls of dirt at fleeing civilians, splattering them with filth and grime, cackling at their screams of outrage.

“That’s right, flee! Flee before the might of…Mole!”

“Figures,” said a voice next to Chat Noir, and he jumped to attention, blinking in surprise at the red and black spotted figure beside him. Why hadn’t he heard her approach?

“Good evening, My Lady,” he greeted politely nonetheless with one of his silly bows that had Ladybug smirking. “You’re looking ravishing as al—are you wearing make-up?”

“Problem?” Ladybug asked him, her smirk growing, bringing more attention to those red lips of hers…though that shade of lipstick was a little too dark to match her suit…

“…Hot date tonight?” Chat Noir asked, his tone just a bit guarded. He knew he shouldn’t be asking, because he wasn’t sure he’d like the answer…but he was just _so_ curious…

Ladybug measured his expression for a moment, her smirk fading a little.

“Jealous?” She asked him, and though her tone was playful, there was something…odd in her eyes. Searching, like she was expecting something…though what it could be, Chat could only guess.

He didn’t bother to, however, too preoccupied with how to respond to her jab. He really _shouldn’t_ be jealous—he had someone else, and she was never his to be jealous over in the first place. But…

Swallowing that pinprick of disappointment he felt, Chat Noir managed a smile.

“As long as you’re happy, My Lady,” he wished her sincerely. Ladybug smiled, but the movement seemed automatic—her bluebell eyes were still intent upon him, still looking for something. Abruptly uncomfortable, he looked away from her, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly.

“So! Uh, where’s Speedy?”

Ladybug shrugged, evidently too used to the nicknames Chat used to refer to Emerald Shell to bat an eyelash anymore.

“I don’t know. I called him, but he didn’t pick up his ph—uh, communicator,” Ladybug corrected hastily, clearing her throat awkwardly and avoiding Chat’s suspicious gaze. “I guess he must be busy…but I think the two of us can handle this particular akuma.”

“Just like old times, then, huh?” Chat stretched his arms over his head, grinning. “Whaddya say we make an entrance?”

Ladybug smirked as she sent out her yo-yo, giving Chat a wink.

“Just follow my lead.”

Chat chuckled as she swung away, following quickly after her. ‘Follow her lead’, ha, good one. After all, hadn’t he proven by now that he was done going rogue?

He skidded to a halt beside Ladybug as she planted herself firmly in Mole’s way. Upon closer inspection, Chat could see the huge magnifying glasses the akumatized victim wore, swelling his dark eyes to three times their natural size, which made his blinking at them all the more comical. Chat struggled to remain stoic as Ladybug addressed Mole:

“Tsk tsk! Didn’t your mother teach you that it’s not nice to throw dirt at other people?”

Mole snarled at them, showing off jagged teeth.

“Ugh, _you two._ You’re the _worst_ , you know that?!”

Chat made a show of being offended.

“ _We’re_ the worst? You’re _kitten_ me, right? Do you see us flinging filth at anyone?”

Mole clutched at his handful of dirt almost protectively as he eyed the two of them in disgust.

“No, but you’re both so…so _shameless!_ Running around the city, acting all _lovey-dovey._ Bleh! You make me sick!”

Without warning, Mole dove back into his hole and barreled right past them, the crevice in the pavement the only sign of where he was going. Chat stared after him for a brief, bewildered moment before turning his gaze onto Ladybug, who was tracking Mole’s movements, red-faced. With just a gesture for him to follow, she took off running after the akumatized victim, Chat scrambling to follow her.

“We don’t… _really_ look like that to people…do we?”

“Not now, Chat,” Ladybug huffed as they ran, though he rather thought her blush increased. “I’d rather get this over with quickly.”

Oh, right. Chat supposed this wasn’t a night for simple chatter—he had a date to get back to, as did Ladybug, apparently…

‘ _Get over it_ ,’ he growled to himself. It didn’t matter if Ladybug was seeing someone or not—he was with Marinette now, and he was happy. There was no reason for him lament what could have been, when what he already had was so amazing already. So, as soon as this was done, he was throwing whatever lingering feelings he might have for Ladybug to the wolves.

Ladybug came to an abrupt stop, and Chat, not expecting it, ran into her; his hands shot out to steady her as she tipped forward, letting go as soon as her feet were planted with a mumbled apology. Ladybug didn’t seem to register it, however: she was glaring at the ground and cursing vehemently.

“Where the hell did he go?!” She demanded to know, stomping her foot as Chat inspected the ground as well, noting that Mole’s trail went cold just before the jewelry shop in front of them. “Urgh, I _so_ do not have the time for this!”

“Relax, My Lady,” Chat said soothingly, straightening up to look at her. “We’ll find him.” Jeez, she must be really eager to get back to her date…

Ladybug frowned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Yeah, but—”

“AHHHH!!!”

She and Chat whipped around towards the source of the noise, and Chat turned back to give her a significant look.

“Where there’re screams—”

“—There’s an akuma,” Ladybug finished for him, tossing her yo-yo to wrap around one of the streetlights and zipping into the air. “C’mon, hurry up!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Chat assured her, tugging out his staff and extending it so he could gain the same aerial leverage, jumping onto a rooftop and keeping pace with Ladybug as she flew through the streets beside him. It didn’t take long to re-locate Mole: he was busy dumping as much dirt as he could find onto an elderly woman who was squawking profanities at him in a hoarse voice, her jade dress now ruined by all the dirt he had buried her in.

“What a pest,” murmured Chat Noir as he and Ladybug landed on the roof of a flower shop. He cringed when he realized his words and sent a sidelong glance Ladybug’s way. “Pardon my French, My Lady.”

Ladybug rolled her eyes.

“Never mind—even if he isn’t exactly being dangerous, we have to stop him.”

“I’ll say—ruining that woman’s dress is a crime against _fashion,_ ” Chat remarked, clucking his tongue in distaste. “Well, Ladybug, if you have a plan ready, I’m all—”

Chat turned, startled to find how close Ladybug suddenly was to him. Her eyes were closed, and she was breathing deeply, face angled towards his neck. Chat blinked in surprise. Was she… _smelling_ him…?

“Er…My Lady…?”

Ladybug slit her eyes open, staring up at him.

“You smell good,” she said, slowly drawing back as she gave him that laser-focused gaze once again. “What’s the name of that cologne, and why are you wearing it?”

“ _Mystique,_ ” Chat Noir replied, admittedly flattered that Ladybug liked his cologne. He had been afraid that he had put on a little too much—Plagg had complained about the smell permeating his coat—but if Ladybug liked it…

Marinette popped into his head, and Chat checked himself.

Right. Date. With Marinette. Right…

“And as for why I’m wearing it—”

“Who’s next?!” Mole called, breaking the superheroes’ conversation. They turned just as he pointed a filthy finger at a startled couple that had just turned onto the street, hand in hand. “You there! Lovebirds! I bet this dirt would go _great_ with that blue crystal necklace of yours, my dear! And on your glasses too, skinny!”

The dark-skinned, white haired woman shoved her blonde boyfriend back around the corner, giving Mole the evil eye as they fled, something he did not take kindly to.

“Why you—! Get back here!”

As he dove underground once again to pursue his new targets, Ladybug and Chat Noir gave chase once again, both huffing in frustration.

“Ladybug, if you have a plan for capturing the akuma, I’d love to hear it!”

“I’m thinking!” She snapped, looking openly frustrated. “If he would just stay still—”

“Why don’t you try a Lucky Charm? That might help.”

Ladybug blinked, as if she had forgotten that was a thing that she could do.

“Oh, right!” She tossed her yo-yo into the air. “Lucky Charm!”

The heroes skidded to a halt just as Ladybug’s Lucky Charm tossed out…

They stared at the spotted item, and then looked up at each other.

“…A bar of soap,” Ladybug grumbled, shaking her head. “This…this is the strangest one yet.”

“But then again,” Chat began, watching with interest as the woman and her boyfriend began to zig and zag through the street, apparently realizing that they could confuse Mole by not running in a straight line. “A guy who likes to play in dirt doesn’t seem like he’s the biggest fan of soap…”

“Hmm.” Ladybug eyed the bar of soap, and then glanced up at Chat. “Ready for the return of the old one, two?”

Chat grinned, taking the bar of soap as Ladybug slapped it into his hand.

“It’s been too long, My Lady.”

Springing from the rooftop, Chat landed on a streetlight before jumping down to the street, just as the couple swerved around a fire hydrant that abruptly cracked; judging by the tracks, Mole smacked into it underground as he was trying to follow the couple. He came up to the surface, cursing fluently and yanking the drill off his head, which was now dented.

“Son of a—look what you did!” He spat at the couple, digging his hands into the dirt surrounding him, ammo ready to fly as he sneered at them. “You’ll pay for this!”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Chat tutted, strolling leisurely forward, allowing himself to grin as Mole’s attention shifted to him. “I don’t think you wanna do that, my burrowing friend…”

“Oh yeah?” Mole challenged, cocking his throwing arm back further. “And what are you gonna do if I do?”

“Oh, not much…probably _bury_ you in guilt as I scold you…or I could just shove _this_ in your face.” He raised the bar of soap, his grin becoming mischievous as Mole’s face paled. “Whaddya say, pal? Call it a _wash?_ ”

Mole hissed, scrambling out of his hole, backing up until his back hit the closed garage door of an auto-repair shop.

“Keep that away from me!” He spat, baring his teeth, even as he cowered against the auto-repair shop. “If you come any closer…I’ll…I’ll…”

“Oh, don’t worry: I won’t move from this spot,” Chat assured him, idly tossing the bar of soap and catching it before tossing it up again. Mole’s large eyes followed it, completely oblivious to the shadow of a certain hero descending upon him.

“You’re…you’re not going to throw it at me, are you?”

“Nah. Me and the soap aren’t gonna come near you...”

Mole gasped as, suddenly, his magnified glasses left his face, and Ladybug flipped out of the air, yanking her yo-yo back to her side. Chat grinned at the almost _betrayed_ look on Mole’s face.

“I didn’t promise _anything_ about her, though.” He said simply. Ladybug smirked and snapped the glasses in half, the guess proving to be right when an akuma flitted out, and was successfully captured within the healing chamber of her yo-yo.

“Bye bye, pretty butterfly,” she bade the white butterfly, and Chat tossed her the bar of soap, which she flung into the air. “Miraculous Ladybug!”

As the damage to the street was reversed and the victim de-akumatized, Chat turned to Ladybug, lifting a fist.

“For old time’s sake?”

Ladybug smiled, the sight radiant, as she bumped her fist against his.

“ _Bien joue,_ ” they congratulated each other, reminiscent smiles on their faces. As Ladybug went to check up on the couple watching from a distance, Chat moved to the victim, snatching up his glasses from the ground before kneeling down to return them.

“You okay, buddy?”

“I…I think so…” Blinking beady eyes, it wasn’t until Chat returned his glasses that the man was able to see, it appeared. He took a good look at Chat and gasped, his face growing pale once again. Cringing, Chat lifted his hands into the air to show he meant no harm. He supposed he wouldn’t be met with a friendlier attitude anytime soon…his fault.

“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to check that you’re all right.” When the man made no move to run or scream—he just stared at him, blinking owlishly—Chat slowly lowered his hands, folding them together in front of him. “Do you remember what you were doing before you were akumatized?”

The man blinked a couple times.

“Uh…nothing.” He frowned. “I never do anything on this day. Valentine’s Day…it’s such a nuisance. What’s the point? Yeah, I get it, you’re in love—do you _have_ to rub it in my face?”

Chat raised his eyebrows behind his mask. Was that bitterness he heard…?

“No date this year?”

“No date _any_ year,” the man huffed, sticking his narrow nose in the air. “And it’s not as if I care to date—I’m not interested in that kind of thing. I have my work to satisfy me, being a pedologist, but every time this day comes around…”

As Chat watched, some of the annoyance left the victim’s face, to be replaced with chagrin.

“I don’t want to be in love—I’m not really interested in it. Never have been, really. But this day—seeing all the couples and the advertisements, the flowers and the candy—it’s uncomfortable. As if there's a whole day dedicated to reminding me how… _wrong_ I am.”

‘ _Oh._ ’

“There’s nothing wrong with being aromantic,” Chat Noir insisted with a frown. The man looked up at him, blinking wide eyes from behind his thick glasses.

“Ar-what?”

“Aromantic. It’s when you don’t experience romantic attraction to other people.”

The man’s mouth came open in surprise.

“There’s…a word for it?”

“Yeah,” said Chat, smiling a little. “You can look it up yourself and see if it’s an accurate description, but from what you’ve just told me, it sounds like you’re aromantic. And that’s fine. There are a lot of people who aren’t interested in romantic relationships.” His smile fading, Chat added, “But don’t you think it’s a little much to ruin the holiday for people who _do_ like it?”

The man’s expression grew sheepish.

“I…suppose.”

Chat contemplated the man for a moment...and then, very slowly, very carefully, reached forward and patted the man's shoulder. He looked surprised, so Chat dropped his hand quickly, offering a little smile.

"It's okay to be who you are. I'm sorry you don't enjoy Valentine's Day in the traditional sense...but in the end, it's just a day. And maybe you can find other ways to enjoy it, in your own way. Celebrating the love of your job, perhaps."

The man blinked, appearing to consider these words for a moment before glancing nervously away from Chat.

“Um...you and Ladybug aren’t very happy with me, are you? I must’ve interrupted your date—”

“We’re not dating,” Chat Noir denied with a shake of his head. “She’s my partner. That’s it.”

“Oh…I see…”

He kept glancing to the side, Chat noticed with a frown. Just what was so interesting?

Chat turned…and found Ladybug just behind him. His eyes widened—again, he hadn’t heard her approach. Was she getting quieter, or was he too distracted tonight to hear her approach?

Ladybug met his gaze for a brief moment, and then she looked away, giving a kind smile to the victim.

“Are you ready to be taken home?”

“Oh...yes…thank you.”

The heroes escorted him back to his office, as per his request, and then stood watch for any protestors for a minute or two before their Miraculous gave their first warning chirps of the night.

“Good work tonight, My Lady,” Chat complimented, wanting to break the sudden, awkward silence between them, a silence originating from Ladybug for a reason he could not fathom. When she glanced over, he smiled at her, wanting to put her at ease. “We still make a pretty good team, huh?”

After a moment, Ladybug smiled.

“Simply the best team,” she agreed, and Chat’s heart warmed.

“So do I get a reward for being a good kitty?” He teased, raising a hand and bending his fingers to make a paw beside one of his cat ears. Ladybug paused, staring at him, and Chat grinned sheepishly. He supposed that was a dumb joke, even for him—

Ladybug’s hand found his arm and pulled him down, tilting him towards her. Chat blinked, about to ask what she was doing—but all words were lost when, quite suddenly, her lips were pressed against his cheek. It was brief, but even as she released him and stopped standing on her tip toes, Chat remained frozen, staring at her. She watched him, face impassive, as he slowly came back to life, a clawed hand raised to his face, though he dared not to touch it, as if doing so would electrocute him.

Did that…really just happen…?

“…I was joking, Ladybug,” he managed to say, though the words were quiet. As the majority of his brain continued to swirl in mass confusion, Ladybug grimaced.

“I know.” She looked away from him, gripping her arm self-consciously, her teeth pressed into her bottom lip. She looked…conflicted. As if…

With a sigh and what seemed like an enormous effort, she made herself look at him again, bluebell eyes anxious.

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I know you’re seeing someone, so I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” Chat cut her off without meaning to. She trailed off, peering up at him curiously, and he flushed. “I mean, uh…it was…an innocent gesture, right?” He gave an awkward smile. “Thanks for a job well done?”

“…Right,” Ladybug confirmed, smiling almost _shyly_ as she took a step back from him. “Still…you may want to wipe off my lipstick if you have plans to see your…‘someone’ tonight.”

“Ah…yeah, will do,” Chat said with a strained laugh. “That wouldn’t make her happy at all…couple this with the pair of earrings I practically forced on her, and any relationship we might have would go up in smoke.” He chuckled and shook his head, missing Ladybug’s thoughtful frown as he turned, ready to leave. “Well, I should go—she’s probably wondering where I am.”

“Chat?”

Chat paused, turning to look at Ladybug again. Now he saw the frown, and it made him blink. What? What did he say?

“My Lady?” He asked when Ladybug didn’t say anything for a moment. She just stared at him, biting on her bottom lip…

And then she smiled.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, _chaton._ ”

Chat blinked again, the sentiment surprising him. But hey, who was he to turn down sentiment from his partner?

“Same to you, Ladybug,” he replied, giving a smile and a salute before he raced off, skirting around a closed doctor’s clinic to find a place to safely de-transform that was not too far from _Cygne._ He didn’t know if the akuma chaos had made the restaurant close down for the night, but it was where he said he’d meet with Marinette again…

After de-transforming and promising Plagg double his usual amount of camembert if just kept up his good behavior until Adrien was able to get home, Adrien casually strode out of the alleyway, glancing into the windows of _Cygne._ Oh, dinner service had resumed, it seemed. Good…but, hmm, it didn’t appear that Marinette had returned to their table yet…

Upon catching his reflection in the mirror, Adrien’s eyes widened— _Ladybug’s lipstick was still on his cheek._ Cursing silently to himself, he dragged his handkerchief out of his pants pocket and scrubbed at his cheek, praying that it wasn’t the kind of lipstick that took nothing less than a pressure wash to get off.

Some of Ladybug’s luck must’ve been imbued in the kiss, for though it smudged at first, it came off easily enough. It left a dark red smear across his handkerchief, though, and when it caught the light, it gave off a strange sort of sparkle that wasn’t detectable while on Ladybug’s lips…what a strange function for lipstick. Adrien cringed, hoping he had laundry detergent strong enough to remove it as he stuffed it back into his pants pocket.

As a chilly breeze blew by, Adrien drew his coat closer around himself, shuddering. He should really go back inside and wait for Marinette, but something made him stay put, wanting time alone to himself. He allowed himself a frown, an idle hand reaching up to brush the cheek that Ladybug had kissed. What had that been about, exactly? She had never kissed him before, despite all his efforts otherwise in the past…what about tonight was different?

Maybe it was just a friendly gesture like she said—after all, she seemed to regret it right afterwards, like she was insulting Marinette by daring to kiss him…but that was ridiculous, since she didn’t know that he was Chat Noir, and therefore didn’t know that he was now dating Marinette—

Adrien paused.

Ladybug didn’t know he was dating Marinette.

In fact…unless his memory was failing him, he hadn’t told Ladybug that he was dating _anyone._

And yet…

_“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I know you’re seeing someone, so I shouldn’t have—”_

How did she know…?

There was a sudden tap to his shoulder, and Adrien yelped, jumping about a meter in the air in surprise before he whirled around to find Marinette, her eyes wide as she stared at him, raising her hands in surrender. Damn it, why was _everyone_ sneaking up on him tonight?!

“Sorry!” Marinette apologized, looking as if she might be fighting laughter as she watched him breathe deeply in an attempt to calm his racing heart. “I just saw you out here, so…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Adrien breathed, inhaling once more before managing a calm smile. “I just needed air for a minute…sorry, did I keep you waiting long?”

“That was going to be my question,” she said, laughing awkwardly. With a glance in the window, she noted, “It looks like they’re letting dinner continue…”

“Then we have a date with some steak and potatoes…if they don’t think we’ve dined and dashed,” Adrien said with a cringe as he slid an arm around Marinette’s bare shoulders. “Hey, where’s your coat?”

“I…don’t know,” Marinette admitted, biting her lip as they stepped back into the restaurant; luckily, the maître d’ waved them back to their table without a hitch. “I left it when I went to the bathroom, but when I came back, it was gone…I think someone took it by accident in the panic, thinking it was theirs.”

Adrien frowned. Mistake or not, how rude to leave Marinette cold like that…

“You can have my coat when I take you home.”

Marinette smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling.

“Such a gentleman,” she teased, giggling further when Adrien pulled her chair out for her to sit. “Or maybe you’re like a knight in shining armor, fearlessly protecting me from the cold.”

Adrien grinned at this, giving a silly little bow.

“Anything for my princess,” he said, glancing up at her with a wink. Marinette’s smile faded, however, her brow puckering as she stared at him with a searching gaze that had Adrien straightening up, tilting his head to the side curiously.

“Something wrong?”

“…” Marinette blinked, and smiled…though something about it seemed forced to Adrien. Hmm…maybe she was picking up this bad habit from him… “No, I’m fine. You’re just...dorky.”

Adrien mock pouted as he took his seat.

“Hey, my dorkiness is one of the reasons you like me.” He paused. “…Right?”

Marinette giggled, her smile shining in the candlelight.

“True…but it doesn’t hurt that you’re pretty, either.”

She gave a wink, and Adrien snorted, waving their waiter over, who apologized promptly for the disturbance and assured them that their meals would be made fresh and right away. He apologized for the time it would take, but both Adrien and Marinette assured him that there was no rush.

Personally, Adrien felt that any time spent with Marinette—no matter how much or how little—was time well worth it.

 

* * *

 

“You sure you’re not cold?”

Adrien smiled. She was so cute.

“I’m going to get into my heated car in just a few seconds, Mari,” he reminded her as he walked her up to her door. “A few minutes in the cold isn’t going to be my undoing.”

Marinette’s brow puckered at him as she turned to face him, his coat around her shoulders. As much as he hated to block the view of the back of that dress, it was necessary—couldn’t have Mari suffering from the cold. (And he had made sure to coax Plagg into his pants pocket before offering the coat to Marinette, so there was no risk of her fingers being bitten or scratched, among other questions his presence would raise...)

“Which is it—a few seconds or a few minutes?” She asked him, and Adrien chuckled.

“However long it takes me to say goodnight to you,” he answered, carefully brushing a hand down her cheek, watching the red flame across her face, seemingly following his touch. His fingertips brushed against her earlobes, where she still wore those simple, unnoticeable earrings. Adrien cringed.

“Are you sure you really like the earrings…?”

“Yes, and I’m not giving them back,” Marinette insisted, taking his hand away from her face and squeezing it. “I just don’t think pink and red go well together, that’s all.”

“Hmm,” Adrien hummed, dubious, for he was still half-convinced that Marinette was just being polite. But if she refused to give them back, what could he do?

As if she sensed his misgivings, Marinette suddenly smirked up at him, her hands sliding over his shoulders to lock around his neck.

“But red goes _very_ well with green,” she told him, looking devious as she stepped closer to him. Adrien’s arms automatically slid around her, fingertips brushing against her bare back under the coat. She shivered at the contact, and he grinned.

“Is that so…” As his head tilted towards her, watching the blaze come to life in her blue eyes, he murmured, “Too bad I’m not wearing any red…”

“I can help with that,” Marinette purred, stretching up to close the last bit of distance between them. Adrien matched her enthusiasm immediately, mouth moving against hers, the kisses fervent, needy. He could taste the mint on her tongue from the tea she ordered with dessert, and the feel of her teeth pressing into _his_ bottom lip instead of her own made him moan and press closer to her, pinning her against her door. She didn’t seem to mind in the slightest; her fingers teased the ends of his hair, sending shivers down his spine when they trailed down his neck, scorching him without the burn, but with plenty of heat nonetheless.

“Do—mm—do you—”

She was trying to ask him something, but she kept interrupting herself by kissing him. Chuckling, Adrien pulled back a little, resisting the urge to sate the mew of protest that left Marinette as he put distance between them. Her eyes were hooded as she stared up at him, her face flushed, lipstick smudged—it was probably all over him now, but what else was new?

“Do I what?” he mumbled, resting his forehead against hers. Marinette swallowed, the rosiness in her cheeks growing.

“Do you…want to…come in?”

The question hung in the air between them, heavy with implications. Adrien eased his panting, closing his eyes as he tried to think with his mind rather than his loins.

He and Marinette had never crossed this particular line before—their make-out sessions had never gone past second base, and were also few and far between, so their experience in exploring each other had basically been nonexistent. But here she was, giving him an opportunity to possibly satisfy all the carnal desires that woke him in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, his underwear uncomfortably soaked and tight. He had already admitted this to Alya, and he would let himself think it once again: he would be lying if he said sex with Marinette tonight had not crossed his mind…especially after seeing her in that dress…

And yet…

His cheek tingled, an unwanted reminder, but a reminder nonetheless.

Ladybug had kissed him.

It had meant nothing, but even still, it was hard for Adrien to stop thinking about it.

And if he went to bed with Marinette tonight…and Ladybug suddenly popped into his head while they were together…

Adrien let out a sigh that was equal parts frustration and resignation.

He couldn’t do that. Not to Marinette. She deserved better from him.

He opened his eyes to find Marinette watching him, her expression deflating as she read the emotions in his eyes. Cringing, Adrien rushed to assure her.

“I want to, Mari. I really, _really_ want to…” He carefully drew back, his hands moving to cup Marinette’s cheeks instead of her backside. “But I also want to cherish you. And I know I’ve been dragging my feet, and I’m sorry. You’ve been so patient with me…but I want to take it slow and do this right. I want you to be my girlfriend—I want to _ask_ you to be my girlfriend—before we get into anything deeper.” He frowned to himself, unsure whether or not he was full of it at this point. God, he was being anal, wasn’t he? “Does that make sense?”

Marinette stared up at him for a measured moment, her eyes uncharacteristically enigmatic. Adrien watched her anxiously, wondering if this was the night that she would decide that she was done with his emotional baggage, that he was making this too hard, that maybe he wasn’t worth it after all—

He needn’t have worried—just as she always did, Marinette smiled softly, her look of grace the most beautiful thing Adrien had ever seen.

“I understand,” she assured him, taking his hands away from her face once again, holding them within her own. “I don’t want to rush you into anything you’re not ready for.”

Adrien sighed, dropping his head to bump his forehead with hers once again as he closed his eyes.

“Thank you, Mari.”

Marinette giggled, the sound a tad shy, and Adrien opened his eyes again to look at her, take her all in. Beautiful, blushing, patient Mari. What had he done to deserve her? Not a damn thing. But even so…

“That being said…” Adrien cleared his throat, feeling himself flush.

‘ _Don’t choke, don’t choke,_ ’ his mind chanted at him, and he drew in a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. He could do this…he _could_ do this…

“That being said…Marinette…will you be my girlfriend?”

Marinette’s eyes grew wide; it was clear that she hadn’t been expecting him to ask her that question _tonight._ Adrien watched as she briefly floundered, her freckles drowning in a sea of red.

“I—uh, a-are you sure…?”

Adrien grinned. She was just _so cute._

“I’m sure,” he promised her, kissing her nose and laughing when she blushed more. “So…should I give you time to think about it?”

Marinette pursed her lips.

“Um…it might look bad if people know I’m dating you before Desiree’s competition ends…”

“I can wait until then,” Adrien said with a shrug. “You were willing to wait for me for a month and a half—”

“I-I didn’t mean I wanted to wait,” Marinette protested, her teeth pressing into her bottom lip. “I just meant…if we’re going to do this…we should be, um…discreet.”

“…So, by ‘discreet’, you mean I _shouldn’t_ send extravagant gifts like giant singing teddy bears or fifty bouquets of pink roses to you while you’re in Desiree’s classroom?”

The blazing red that flashed through Marinette’s face amused Adrien.

“Adrien—”

“I’m kidding, Mari,” he said to put her at ease, grinning mischievously before it softened into a hopeful smile. “But, by the ‘discreet’ plan…can I take that to mean that you’re…saying yes?”

Marinette’s answering smile was dazzling, and Adrien felt like he could die happy at that very moment.

“Yes,” she confirmed, the tail end of the word ending in a squeak of surprise as Adrien lifted her into his arms, kissing her with such gusto it made her laugh before kissing him back. The heat between them a minute ago gave way to tenderness, their kisses soft and sure and certain that, though neither of them knew what they were doing exactly, this felt _right._ After a few minutes, Adrien lowered Marinette back down to the ground, resting his forehead against hers once more. He could look into her eyes forever—they were so deep, so blue, and they sparkled and shone, as if they contained the cosmos. She was so beautiful, so smart, so funny, so sweet…and Adrien was so very, very smitten.

“I should go,” he said softly after a moment, the words forlorn. Marinette sighed, her pout tempting.

“Do you have to?”

Adrien chuckled, pecking her lips once more before he stepped back, reluctantly leaving the warmth of her embrace.

“I should,” he repeated, taking one of her hands and planting a kiss to the back of it. “Good night, Mari.”

Marinette gave him one last smile, retrieving her keys from her purse and unlocking the door behind her.

“Good night, Adrien,” she bade him, stepping back into her apartment. Her hand went to the door as she looked at him, smirking a little. “And you know what? I was right: red _is_ a good color on you.”

She giggled as he blushed, probably further proving her point, before she shut the door. Adrien listened for the sound of the deadbolt sliding home, and he sighed, spinning on his heel as he skipped down her stairs, a hand over his heart.

He did it—he asked her! And now she was his girlfriend! He could call Mari his girlfriend now!

Adrien was so giddy that he had almost forgotten—again—about the lipstick smeared over his face. He caught his reflection in one of the windows of his car and had to snort—she had completely _covered_ him with the stuff.

‘ _Time for a new handkerchief,_ ’ Adrien thought with a grimace as he drew the fabric out once again to de-grafitti his face. It was a shame, really, since Erika had given him this one, but he was sure she’d understand. In fact, she’d probably be thrilled to learn that the gift had to be sacrificed because Marinette couldn’t keep her lips off him.

Adrien drew the handkerchief back, stepping over to a nearby streetlight to inspect the damage—

The scrap of fabric was covered in sparkly red lipstick.

Adrien frowned. Wait, that couldn’t be right…the handkerchief was folded into fourths, and he had used one corner to rub away the lipstick Ladybug and left on him, and another corner to get rid of all the lipstick from Marinette’s kisses…or maybe he had used the same corner by accident? In that case, it made perfect sense—

Adrien unfolded the handkerchief. On one corner, there was a small smear of sparkly red lipstick. Adjacent to the corner was all the lipstick Adrien had wiped off just now. Both were dark red and sparkly.

The shades were identical.

Adrien’s neck began to tingle. Suddenly, he was very aware of the way his heart pounded in his chest, of the way his tongue had suddenly turned into sandpaper, of the way the world was suddenly tilting, shifting the wrong way—

‘ _It’s a coincidence,_ ’ his mind insisted automatically, a defense mechanism to guard his sanity springing into play. ‘ _This lipstick is probably mass-produced…lots of women probably own this shade…_ ’

And two women with the same brand of lipstick just happened to kiss him tonight?

Adrien’s hand began to tremble as he stared down at what he simply could not process. It had to be impossible, it _had_ to be. There was no way he would have missed it if it were true, _absolutely no way._ This had to be nothing more than coincidence, there was no way that Ladybug—

There was no way that Ladybug should have known that he was seeing someone.

Adrien was sure of it—as Chat, he had never told Ladybug that he was involved with someone. As Chat, he hadn’t told _anyone_ that he was involved with someone—except for—

The sound of doors swinging open intruded upon Adrien’s realization, and he whirled around to find Marinette emerging onto her balcony. Her face was pale, her eyes wide in her face as she rushed to the balcony railing, staring down at him. Adrien waited, on edge, wondering if she was about to cry that there was an akuma in her room or something—

Marinette said nothing. She just stared at him, the moonlight adding a midnight blue sheen to her raven hair, her wide, bluebell eyes laser-focused on him—

Looking at _him._

Adrien stared back, hardly daring to breathe, his heart pounding violently against his Adam’s apple.

He couldn’t believe it.

It absolutely was not possible.

But it _was._

It didn’t make any sense.

But it _did_.

Marinette was Marinette.

But _Ladybug_ was…

Marinette’s—Ladybug’s— _Marinette’s_ lips parted, and she took a breath, looking as if she might say something…but she didn’t. After a tense moment, she just shut her mouth, raised a hand…and waved, a small smile on her face.

Unsure of what else to do, Adrien returned the gesture with his free hand, his other balling his handkerchief in his fist. He didn’t know what to do. Half of him wanted to confront her, but the other half…the other half was just in shock. If he was right—and he was half-convinced that he was—then…this changed _everything._

…But what if he was wrong?

Couldn’t it all be just a coincidence…?

Marinette turned, looking like she intended to go back inside. So Adrien made himself move too, turning to let himself into his car. But he felt eyes on the back of his head, and he turned just in time to see Marinette turning around again, her back ramrod straight as she went into her room, something clutched in her arms…his coat?

Maybe she meant to tell him that he forgot to take it back. Maybe he should ask for it back. Maybe he should ask to come in after all, because there was no way he was going to sleep if he didn’t get any clarity on this matter—

But the balcony doors slammed shut, and it was too late. Adrien forced himself to take a deep breath, getting into his car. But even then, he just sat there, staring out his windshield for a while. Dimly, it occurred to him that his handkerchief was still balled up in his hand, and he unrolled it again, staring at the lipstick smudges.

They were the same. Adrien knew make-up—it came hand-in-hand with his knowledge of clothes—and he could tell that they were the same exact shade.

Of course, that proved absolutely nothing.

And of course, he _could_ have forgotten mentioning his relationship to Ladybug already.

The earrings…

Well…she could just really like those plain earrings, for some reason…

And the thing with the strawberry-filled chocolates wasn’t so uncommon…

And maybe she _did_ really have to use the bathroom when he’d made the excuse to get away…

It could all so easily be a coincidence.

So, wasn’t it?

Wasn’t it just a coincidence…?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I think not. ;)
> 
> Shout out to Mims for helping me figure out the theme for this chapter's akuma~ (And yes, those things you think are references are definitely references. :D)
> 
> So! Little announcement: starting next week, I'll be busy preparing for an observation lesson at my school, as well as for Halloween lessons later on in the month (Pokemon themed~ :D). So don't expect to see a new chapter until sometime in November, I think; I'm gonna be pretty tied up until then.
> 
> Next chapter, we'll see what Marinette thinks of these "coincidences". (Cue Alya slapping her forehead in the background, LMAO).
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	26. Suspicions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Eh, I figured you waited long enough.
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

Pine.

That was the smell. It was pine.

Marinette hadn’t registered the name of the smell right away—the shock had been too strong for her to put a name to it.

It had been a ridiculous idea to hug the coat to her anyway, as if it could ever be a proper substitute for one of Adrien’s hugs. But still, Marinette had done it, because admittedly, she was a sentimental type of person.

A sentimental type of person who also had a really strong sense of smell.

So strong, in fact, that the moment the lapel of the coat brushed her face, her eyes flew open wide, a small gasp escaping her as she registered a smell that should not be familiar.

A smell that, given the facts as she knew them, should not exist.

‘ _It’s impossible,_ ’ she thought to herself as she stood in her bedroom, staring down at the coat in her hands, as if it were a crucial piece of evidence in a murder trial. ‘ _Or it’s a coincidence. That cologne is most likely mass-produced. A lot of men probably use it…_ ’

And she had just happened to spend time in the company of two men who had decided to wear it on the same night?

‘ _Stop that,_ ’ she scolded herself, her grip on the coat tightening as she scowled down at it. ‘ _There has to be a rational explanation. What you’re thinking is impossible._ ’

…But was it?

Even before tonight, there were times when Adrien reminded her uncomfortably of someone else, whether it was his words or his mannerisms that triggered the cataloging of similarities in Marinette’s brain: the grins that were a little too wild on him, the unexpected teasing nature, some of his gestures, some of his words—

_“Anything for my princess.”_

Marinette shivered, though the room was far from cold.

Chat Noir had said something strange earlier, too: something about earrings he was sure his ‘someone’ didn’t like.

And Adrien was worried about the earrings he had given her tonight…

‘ _That proves nothing,_ ’ Marinette insisted to herself with a fervent shake of her head. ‘ _This is all circumstantial. They’re weird coincidences. They_ have _to be…_ ’

Marinette’s gaze snapped to her balcony doors. She hadn’t heard Adrien’s car pull away yet…

‘ _I just need to look at him,_ ’ Marinette reasoned to herself, still clutching his coat as she hurried to her balcony doors, throwing them wide open. Her bare skin recoiled against the chilly winter night air, but she ignored it, approaching the railing of her balcony. ‘ _One look. Then I won’t have any doubts…_ ’

Adrien was standing under the streetlight right across from her balcony. The light filtering down from it set his blonde hair alight, a golden halo perched upon his head. Said head snapped up as she emerged, his green eyes locking with hers in an instant. His face was bloodless, his eyes wide and mouth slack for some reason Marinette could not fathom. He turned to face her, staring up at her as she stared down at him.

‘ _See?_ ’ Marinette told herself as she watched him, ignoring the way her heart suddenly pounded so hard in her chest that it might break free of her body at any moment. ‘ _It’s just Adrien down there. It’s just…_ ’

A breeze flew by, slightly disturbing his hair; his gel must be wearing off. He seemed ignorant of it, and the breeze died within a few seconds, but Marinette saw it—for just a moment, with his hair displaced, he looked like…

‘ _…Chat?_ ’

Marinette’s lips parted of their own accord, the name poised on her tongue, ready to be released—

She bit down, forcibly closing her mouth. Unsure of what else to do, she made herself smile, giving a small wave in farewell. After a moment, Adrien returned the gesture, his smile looking as flimsy as hers felt.

Unable to look at him for long, for she was certain she was losing her mind, Marinette turned her back, preparing to go inside. Her head was whirling, and it surely would have spun right off her shoulders if it wasn’t attached to her neck. Her whole body was buzzing, too, the cold distantly felt as blood raced through her veins with the same adrenaline that usually was inspired by an akuma attack.

It could so very easily be a coincidence. She could just be reading too much into them, making something out of nothing.

There was such a huge possibility that Marinette could be wrong.

But if she wasn’t…?

Marinette chanced another glance behind her, taking in Adrien’s turned back. She could see the planes of his muscles through his snug dress shirt; he really _had_ filled out well ever since he quit following his model diet. And it was clear he had been hitting the gym, too…his figure was still lithe, but there was definitely muscle there, too. And his hair had gotten ridiculously long…so long he probably had to tie it back into a ponytail while he was working…

‘ _STOP IT,_ ’ Marinette commanded herself once again, forcing her eyes away from Adrien and forward as she moved back into her room, pushing the balcony doors shut behind her. This was insanity—if she kept torturing herself with coincidences like this, she would never get any sleep tonight. Just because there happened to be a _handful_ of small similarities between Adrien and Chat didn’t mean they _meant_ anything. Besides, Marinette would have _known_ if something like this was going on, would have _known_ if her partner happened to also be her boyfriend—her _boyfriend!_ Not a few minutes after Adrien had asked her to be his girlfriend, and already, Marinette was suspecting him of keeping secrets from her.

Or maybe…

Maybe this was some sick, hidden need of hers to make the two men in her life fit into one role? Because wouldn’t that just be so convenient for her, to have two in one, to be able to have her cake and eat it, too? Wasn’t this just wishful thinking on Marinette’s part, born of a desire so selfish that it shamed her to even consider it within her own mind?

She groaned, burying her face in the coat, as if it would help her hide from her own shame. It didn’t—the cologne was still as strong as ever, and Marinette inhaled deeply, unable to help herself.

Pine.

It was the smell of pine.

Of a cologne called _Mystique._

The smell of Chat Noir.

Marinette’s nose didn’t lie—the two scents were definitely one in the same.

But the question still remained: did this _mean_ anything?

“Marinette?”

Marinette jumped, startled as her kwami abruptly sprang free of the bag Marinette had left on her computer desk. A surge of guilt went through her; she had forgotten all about the kwami.

“Sorry, Tikki.”

“It’s fine.” Tikki peered up at her, indigo eyes filled with concern. “…But are you all right, Marinette? You look very pale…are you feeling unwell?”

“…”

Marinette stared at her kwami. It wasn’t obvious, looking at Tikki, but she was a tiny god that was thousands, if not millions of years old. She had once told Marinette that she and Plagg were created together, and therefore, were two halves of the same whole. Thus, whenever Plagg was near, she could sense him, and vice versa.

So if Plagg had been nearby tonight…

“Tikki?” Marinette began, still clutching Adrien’s coat to her, as if letting go would have dire consequences for her. “Um…c-can I ask you something…?”

“Of course, Marinette,” Tikki allowed, still appearing worried. Marinette idly wondered just how pale her face looked before the matter was pushed out of her mind. Because here, right in front of her, was the end-all, be-all answer that would put her questions to rest and end her sudden restlessness over whether or not her suspicions held any weight. If she was just imagining things, then good, fine with her—that made things less complicated, even if there were some issues she clearly had to work out.

…But if her suspicions were correct…

Marinette swallowed. All she had to do was ask. That was it. Just one simple question, and everything would be revealed…

“Marinette?” Tikki prompted, flying closer to Marinette’s face when she didn’t say anything for a while, her eyes large, concerned…and containing all the hidden knowledge of an all-powerful but benevolent god. She would surely tell Marinette, if she asked…Tikki would never lie to her, never mislead her…

Then _why?_ Why couldn’t Marinette make herself ask the question, when the answer she sought was right in front of her? What was she so afraid of…?

‘ _If I’m wrong, then nothing has to change. Adrien will still be Adrien, and Chat will still be Chat. One will be my boyfriend, the other, my partner. If I’m wrong, nothing will be complicated. It’ll be business as usual._ ’

But…if she was right…?

If she was right…it would change _everything._

Marinette swallowed again, her fists tightening around Adrien’s coat.

“………Never mind,” she said at last, offering a tiny smile. Tikki blinked in surprise, and Marinette hastily looked away, moving around the kwami to hang Adrien’s coat in her closet. “It’s not important after all.”

“Are you sure, Marinette…?”

“I’m sure,” Marinette assured her, carefully avoiding her kwami’s gaze as she hung Adrien’s coat, and then closed her closet door, crossing to her vanity table to remove her jewelry. “Good work tonight. I’ll get you some cookies, and then I’m gonna take a shower and go to bed. It’s been a long night.”

“Okay,” said Tikki, and Marinette avoided her own gaze in the mirror of her vanity table as she slipped off her necklace; the lie in her eyes would be too much for her right now. “But, Marinette…if you need anything…I’m right here, okay?”

Marinette closed her eyes and made herself take a deep breath. The scent of pine was still heavy in her senses, even after she put Chat’s— _Adrien’s_ —coat away. She forced another deep breath, hoping that would clear her senses, before she turned and offered another small smile to her kwami.

“I know. Thanks, Tikki.”

Sadly, there was no help for Marinette, now that she was wedged between that rock and the hard place, now that she both wanted and did not want to know a secret that could possibly turn her world upside-down, should she choose to seek the truth on her own…

It was going to be a very, very, _very_ long night.

 

* * *

 

“Hmm…‘irritation’, huh? Something bothering you, Adrien?”

As an answer, Adrien sent a pointed look Plagg’s way, who was busy gorging himself on cheese on Ivan’s desk. The kwami paused only to return Adrien’s look with an unimpressed one before continuing with his meal, swallowing a piece of camembert whole. Ivan glanced between the two, his thick brows furrowed in concern.

“Did you two, er…have a disagreement or something?”

“He’s upset because he thinks I’m hiding Ladybug’s identity from him,” Plagg replied with a nonchalant air that further annoyed Adrien. He glared at the kwami from where he sulked in his armchair, exhaustion making him extra-cranky, due to the fact that he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. Half the night, he had badgered Plagg, the all-knowing god of chaos and destruction, whose other half was the being of order and creation, a kwami Plagg at least consented to name: Tikki. Master Fu had told him that the two kwamis, Tikki and Plagg, were created together as two halves of the same whole. Thus, they were connected in ways Adrien could barely grasp.

But he had certainly tried to understand last night. He had thrown question after question at Plagg in an attempt to get him to leak information about Tikki’s whereabouts, but the kwami was stubborn, refusing to answer anything until he had gotten his prize for his good behavior. But once Adrien had consented to feed him, the little brat of a god had the absolute _nerve_ to pass out right after, leaving Adrien frustrated beyond belief as the knowledge he sought was denied him. This morning hadn’t been any better, made worse by the fact that Adrien was tired and running late—he had barely made it into Ivan’s office on time after fighting with Plagg on his sudden silence over his other half, and now here they were, with Plagg still remaining obstinate, and Adrien thoroughly irritated about it, if the shattering beats and angry guitar riffs blaring through Ivan’s speakers was too subtle of a hint.

Ivan, for his part, merely blinked in surprise at Plagg, and Adrien abruptly felt bad. His poor therapist…with all the shit he had to put up with with Adrien alone, it seemed too much to drag him into the supernatural issues he had with his kwami as well…

“You know who Ladybug is?” Ivan asked, sounding genuinely curious. But Plagg gave him a withering glance, rising into the air with his last piece of camembert.

“What I might or might not know about Ladybug is _my_ business,” he insisted, turning his back to both Ivan and Adrien as he flew away, towards Adrien’s coat. “And I would prefer _not_ to be interrogated about it!”

“There wouldn’t _be_ any interrogating going on if you were just up front about what you know!” Adrien spat at him, but Plagg ignored him, disappearing into the pocket of his coat without another word. Adrien huffed and ran his hands through his hair, irked beyond belief. As he stewed in his bad mood, he quite forgot Ivan’s existence before the gentle giant cleared his throat, and Adrien looked up with a cringe.

“Sorry. I don’t mean to be so grumpy. Just…last night was a long one.”

“Looks like it,” Ivan concurred, his eyes scanning Adrien’s face, no doubt taking in the bags under his eyes with a slight frown. “So…what’s all this about Ladybug’s identity, all of a sudden?”

Adrien pursed his lips.

Here was someone he could trust with all his secrets without question: bound by both his profession and his own principles, Ivan would not breathe a single word Adrien said to him about anything, without Adrien having to ask. It had already been proven by now that Adrien could trust Ivan with anything…

…Anything except secrets that were not his to tell, anyway.

That threw a wrench into any complaining Adrien wanted to do on the subject, of course—how could he expound upon his restlessness without giving away sensitive information that may or may not be true?

As he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to figure out a way to explain, Ivan seemed to pick up on his helplessness. He sat back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach as he observed Adrien.

“Did you…find something out?”

Adrien frowned, and Ivan raised his hands, suddenly looking concerned.

“You don’t have to name names or anything. That’s your business. And hey, if you’re uncomfortable with the subject, you can just say so. I may be your therapist, but the point of these sessions is for you to talk about things you’re willing to talk about. So if you don’t want to—”

“That’s the problem,” Adrien cut in with a chagrined look, “I _want_ to talk about it. Since Plagg’s being… _Plagg_ , there’s no one else that I _can_ talk about it to…but at the same time…I don’t want to fuck up and say something I shouldn’t…”

“…Then speak very, very carefully,” Ivan suggested, smiling a little. “I won’t push for details. Just share whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m listening.”

The words were calming, and Adrien took a deep breath, closing his eyes to focus. Okay…if he could get through this without mentioning names, or giving away defining characteristics…then it would be fine, right? He could do this, couldn’t he?

God, he hoped he could do this, because if he didn’t talk to _someone_ about it, he was going to explode.

Taking another deep breath, Adrien frowned to himself, his eyes still closed as he concentrated, sorting through his words carefully.

“Well…last night…I… _might_ have found something out,” he said, tip-toeing around a landmine of words he should avoid, such as ‘date’ and ‘lipstick’, harmless enough on their own, but too telling if they were put into the right context. “The problem is, everything is…circumstantial. It could all just be a giant coincidence…”

“…But you don’t think it is?” Ivan guessed. Adrien huffed, opening his eyes to stare at his therapist, feeling lost.

“That’s the problem: I _don’t know._ And I’m more than a little terrified to ask, because if I’m right…”

If he was right…nothing would ever be the same again. And he still was not sure whether this was a good or a bad thing.

Ivan’s gaze switched to the ceiling, frowning thoughtfully into the distance.

“So…I’m guessing you’re worried about Ladybug’s identity…because she might be someone you know?”

Adrien’s jaw tightened. Uh-oh. They were entering into dangerous waters. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all…

Ivan read the tension in Adrien’s expression, and then gave a tiny nod.

“No names needed. But I can see this is very distressing for you, since you’ve been working to get over Ladybug. But now that she might be someone you know, things have gotten complicated. Does that sound like where you are right now?”

Adrien sighed, letting his head fall into a hand.

“In a nutshell, yeah,” he grumbled. Ivan hummed, his gaze going to the ceiling again as he twiddled his thumbs.

“…So let me ask you, Adrien,” Ivan began, glancing at Adrien again, “what does this mean for you? Will something in your life change, in light of this new information?”

This question made Adrien blink.

Would something change? Of _course_ something would change—his whole _world_ would change if his suspicions proved to be correct! A secret so earth-shattering, a secret of this _caliber…_ nothing would ever be the same again if it turned out that Marinette Dupain-Cheng, his _girlfriend_ Mari, was—

“Uggggh, _enough_ already!”

Adrien was startled out of his whirling thoughts by the sound of a disgruntled voice. He and Ivan both looked up as Plagg suddenly zoomed out of Adrien’s coat pocket, looking every bit as disgruntled as Adrien currently was with him.

“Ladybug, Ladybug, _Ladybug,_ ” the kwami drawled, folding his arms as he hovered in midair, glaring down at his Chosen. “I thought we were _over_ this nonsense, kid! Why can’t you just be satisfied with what you have? Are you truly the spoiled rich boy the tabloids claim you are? Can you really settle for nothing less than everything you want?”

“Plagg—” Ivan called, but Plagg ignored him, his narrowed cat eyes focused firmly on Adrien.

“Who cares if you may or may not know who Ladybug is in her civilian life? Is that going to change your relationship with the woman you just asked to be your girlfriend last night? Are you really so fickle?”

Adrien winced, as if he had been struck. He couldn’t help it; the words _stung._ And they were unfair, considering Plagg was acting like he knew _everything_ , and he _still_ wouldn’t tell Adrien one way or another if he was right or not!

“It’s not like it would change my relationship with Mari—” he began to protest, but Plagg zoomed into his face, making him jerk back in surprise at the uncharacteristically fierce look on the kwami’s face.

“Oh? And just what do you think she’d say if you began to treat her differently? How do you think she’d feel if your infuriating inferiority complex began to interfere with your relationship? Do you think she’d be happy? Do you think, suspecting what you do, that she’d be pleased to know that the reason you’re suddenly worshipping the ground she walks on is because she’s suddenly what you’ve been wanting for all these years?”

Plagg’s eyes narrowed even more as Adrien watched him, his indignity at the kwami’s words fading fast.

“ _Think,_ Adrien. You have a good thing here. A _healthy_ thing. Must you ruin it by seeking answers that are not ready to be given? _Must_ you sabotage your own happiness? _Again?_ ”

“Plagg!” Ivan interjected once more, and though Plagg fell silent, he still just _stared_ at Adrien, like he could see right into his soul, and was not happy with what he was witnessing.

And Adrien…could say nothing.

There was nothing he could shoot back that would refute anything Plagg just said. Sure, he could claim that his relationship with Mari wouldn’t change one iota even if she _also_ happened to be Ladybug…but was that true?

For so long, Adrien had loved and idolized the woman in that red and black spotted mask, for so long he yearned for her, to the point of desperation and madness. The minute she finally rejected his feelings was the minute she had set him free, left him to seek his own happiness, wherever it might be. And Adrien had found that happiness in Marinette, whom he saw clearly, for though he still thought she was amazing, she was also still just a person, just like him. She never made him feel like he had to earn her love, never made him feel like he was inadequate. Just by being Marinette, she made him feel… _miraculous._

But if it turned out that she and Ladybug were the same person… _would_ Adrien begin to see her differently? Would he begin to treat her differently, thrust her back on that pedestal that he had been working so hard to tear down?

To suddenly behave as if she had hung the stars and the moon in the sky…would Marinette be hurt by such behavior? Especially if she realized that it was because he believed her to be someone he had long loved, like he was trying to shove her into a role that may or may not fit…?

He didn’t know what kind of expression he was currently making, but it made Plagg’s irritated gaze fall, and he gave a huff, perching himself on Adrien’s shoulder.

“Forget about Ladybug, Adrien. There’s nothing wrong with just enjoying what you have. And you’re happy with what you have…aren’t you?”

“…”

Adrien closed his eyes and pictured Marinette, the way her eyes sparkled as they shared a laugh, the fire in her expression when she was all holy justice, the way her teeth pressed into her bottom lip when she was unsure, the scrunch of her nose as she was considering some design choice, the swoop of her eyelashes when they brushed against her freckled cheeks…her smile when she agreed to be his girlfriend, just last night…

Adrien’s heart throbbed painfully. But it was a good kind of pain, the kind that told him that he was in too deep, and that it was just fine to be so. Because it was Marinette.

And now that Adrien had finally found his way to her, he wasn’t letting her go. Not for anything.

“…For someone who likes gross-smelling cheese so much, you sure are insightful,” Adrien grumbled to his kwami at last, glancing down to find the smug expression briefly crossing Plagg’s face.

“My love of camembert has nothing to do with being smarter than you,” he informed his Chosen, closing an eye as he peered up at Adrien. “But it pleases me to know that you’re not beyond reason anymore, either.”

Adrien rolled his eyes, glancing over at Ivan…who was looking like he had heard far too much. And Adrien cringed.

Oops. Maybe that argument was just a little too telling…

“Uh…sorry,” Adrien said, unsure of what else to say in this situation. Ivan blinked a couple times before he managed a small smile…though the shock wasn’t quite banished from his face just yet.

“No need to apologize. This room exists for you to work out what’s bothering you…though, uh, I usually have a more active role…”

“I just made your job a thousand times easier, Big Guy,” Plagg announced with all the arrogance of a spoiled prince. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Ivan chuckled a little, the sound strained.

“Uh, yeah, thanks. So, uh…in the interest of not spoiling the breakthrough you’ve just reached…should we move on to something else?”

The curiosity was evident in Ivan’s eyes, Adrien could see, but he was politely suppressing it, clearly not wanting to tread on any toes. It was just as well—it really wasn’t Adrien’s secret to tell, and he wasn’t even sure that there was any truth to it, in the end.

And that was fine. Though Adrien still wondered, and he no doubt would for a while, it was something that did not need his attention until Ladybug—or Marinette—decided that it needed his attention.

His civilian and superhero life were divided for a reason. Until further notice…he should work to keep it that way.

 

* * *

 

She was late. That was not comforting.

Alya huffed, tapping her phone screen again. No missed calls, no messages. That either meant that Marinette was close enough that such messages weren’t warranted…or she was dead in a ditch somewhere.

‘ _Or she’s fighting an akuma,_ ’ Alya reminded herself, though she had just checked her news app a moment ago for anything she might have missed—now that she knew what she knew, staying on top of the supernatural occurrences in Paris had become a top priority. But according to said news app, there was nothing out of the ordinary occurring in Paris today…

…So where was Marinette?

Alya began to tap her fingers against the surface of the table where she sat, her head propped up with a fist. She glared at the front door, her finger tapping getting faster and faster with every second that it failed to admit Marinette into the restaurant. It was all well and good if Marinette had gotten caught up in class or something, but she usually told Alya these things, because she _knew_ Alya had a penchant for jumping the gun if there was even the slightest _hint_ that her best friend was in trouble and needed her—

‘ _Oh, there she is,_ ’ Alya thought with relief as, finally, said best friend appeared, hurrying through the door and stumbling into one of the passing waiters with a harried apology. Alya lifted her hand and waved it over her head, catching Marinette’s attention, and Marinette made a bee line for her.

“Hi, sorry I’m late,” Marinette apologized, bestowing a quick hug upon Alya before taking her seat across from her, pushing dark hair out of her exhausted-looking face. “I didn’t sleep well last night, so I was late for class, too, and now my whole schedule is just all off…”

As Marinette removed her winter bundling—hat, scarf, gloves and all—Alya inspected her, taking in the dark circles under her eyes, which lacked their usual spark. She looked very, very tired…

A grin split Alya’s face.

“Atta girl,” she crowed, and Marinette glanced up, blinking in bewilderment.

“What?” She asked, looking confused.

“Oh come on, don’t play with me,” Alya warned her, pointing a knowing finger at her as she grinned. “I know you had a date with Adrien last night. And now you show up for lunch looking exhausted? Did your bed frame survive what was surely an explosion of _years_ of pent-up sexual tension? Or did you two wreck _his_ bed instead? I bet it’s the second one—he can afford to buy a new one, after all—”

“Wh—Alya, _no,_ ” Marinette protested, blushing all the way from her neck to the roots of her hair. “That isn’t—I mean, we didn’t—nothing happened.”

Alya stared at Marinette, uncomprehending. What did she _mean_ , ‘nothing happened’?

“Nothing happened?” She parroted, unable to process anything further than that. When Marinette nodded, instead of banishing Alya’s incredulity, it only grew two-fold. “ _Nothing_ happened?!”

“Well—”

“I’m gonna kill that boy,” Alya decided, clenching her fist. “Adrien Agreste is a dead man walking.”

“Alya—”

“Don’t try and talk me out of it, we did _not_ spend all that time primping you yesterday for _nothing_ to happen! Hell, literally the _only_ reason I didn’t jump you myself after seeing you in that dress was because I knew it was all for him—oh, and I’m in a loving, committed relationship with my fiancé—so what the hell?! Is he _crazy?!_ ”

“Alya,” Marinette spoke over Alya’s raging, and she calmed down just enough to note the serious look on Marinette’s face. “I’m not upset about it. We’re taking things slow, and that’s fine.”

“‘Slow’,” Alya quoted with an irritated huff, flicking red hair out of her face with a huff. “I don’t know what _your_ definition of that word is, but I’m pretty sure you guys are stuck at ‘immobile’.”

“We are not,” Marinette insisted, frowning before she glanced down at the table, a new blush filling her face. “…He asked me to be his girlfriend last night.”

Alya blinked.

…Huh. Maybe the mangy cat man _wasn’t_ neutered. Not yet, anyway…

Still, if the small little smile that was spreading across her best friend’s face was any indication, Marinette was more than pleased by this development, so Alya would let it go. For now.

“That’s great, hun,” she replied, smiling as Marinette turned a darker shade of red. She was adorable. “So, no more of this ‘friends’ bullshit, right? You’re official?”

“We’re official,” Marinette confirmed, stifling a yawn. Alya frowned, taking in the bags under Marinette’s eyes once again. Wait a minute…if she hadn’t been kept up all night with wild sex by her official boyfriend…then…

“Then why are you so tired?” Alya wanted to know, tilting her head in concern as she failed to comprehend this mystery. Marinette blinked, and then inexplicably flushed even darker, something that did not escape Alya’s notice, though Marinette ducked her head, staring intently at her menu as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Marinette—” She began, ready to pry, but the damn waiter chose _that_ moment to show up, even though Alya had been sitting here for a full ten minutes, waiting for someone to take her drink order. Bastard.

“Good afternoon, ladies. My name is—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alya cut him off with an impatient wave of her hand, “I’ll have a Coke, and she’ll have a cappuccino. Thanks.”

The waiter blinked, apparently startled at this abrupt dismissal. But when Alya raised her eyebrows at him, he walked away without another word.

“You shouldn’t be rude to waiters,” Marinette chastised her with a frown. “Customer service is hard enough as it is.”

“I said ‘thank you’ at the end,” Alya defended herself, although part of her recognized the truth in Marinette’s words and felt the proper amount of guilt over her attitude. She’d give the poor guy a bigger tip to make up for it later.

“He might spit in your Coke, you know.”

Alya rolled her eyes.

“Stop changing the subject. You look like you’re ready to drop, and I wanna know why.”

“Oh…”

Marinette looked away again, biting her lip. Alya’s frown deepened as she inspected her best friend’s face. Just what was bothering her so much that it had kept her up all night, after what should have been a really great night with her now boyfriend?

Alya reached across the table, grasping Marinette’s hands.

“Come on, hun. Talk to me,” she coaxed, giving Marinette a little smile. “It’ll make you feel better.”

Marinette’s expression did not change, and that concerned Alya.

“Is it a design thing?” She probed, watching Marinette’s face. “Are you worried about the competition next week?”

Marinette groaned, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Well _now_ I am. I’ve been trying not to think about it…”

Fuck.

“Sorry,” Alya apologized sheepishly, giving Marinette’s hands a squeeze. Marinette sighed, but returned the gesture, opening her eyes to give Alya a tired smile.

“It’s okay. Just…this is it, you know? All of my struggles come down to next Wednesday. And even though I’m prepared—even though every outfit has been approved, every stitch triple-checked, not a thread out of place—it’s still _terrifying._ Yeah, I’ve been working hard…but so has everyone else in my class. And if it turns out that all my work wasn’t good enough—”

“Stop that,” Alya chided, frowning. “Listen, I’ve met those artsy-fartsy classmates of yours, and lemme tell you: they’ve got _nothing_ on you, girl.”

This made Marinette smile, her usual spark returning to her eyes. Good.

“Don’t you think you’re being just a bit biased?”

Alya snorted.

“I’m a reporter—they teach you nothing _but_ bias in journalism.”

Marinette giggled as Alya winked.

“At least you’re up front about it,” she teased with a shake of her head. “…But thanks, Alya.”

“Of course.” Alya gave Marinette’s hands another squeeze before she let go, folding hers in front of her as her gaze zeroed in on her friend’s face. “…But that wasn’t the reason you couldn’t sleep last night, right?”

Marinette’s face fell. Clearly, she had been hoping the subject would be dropped.

How little she knew Alya if she actually thought that would be the end of it.

Instead of prodding this time, Alya tried a new tactic: she stared at Marinette expectantly, waiting patiently (her fingers tapping in her lap under the table) as Marinette avoided her gaze, fiddling with her menu and chewing on her bottom lip. Alya was just about to give a dramatic sigh when Marinette finally glanced up, meeting her eyes. There was something…wrong, in her eyes. Like something was haunting her.

Alya knew that look, and though it couldn’t be what she thought it was, it still made her worry.

“Marinette?” She prompted, a note of concern slipping into her tone. Marinette sighed, her eyes falling to her menu again.

“Have you…” she began hesitantly, before she paused, biting her lip. Before Alya could prompt her again, she tried once more, eyes kept firmly on her menu. “I mean…was there ever a time…where you thought…you might have…found something out about somebody…that could change how you see them…?”

…Was that a trick question?

“…Maybe,” Alya said, working to sound casual as she carefully inspected Marinette, who was still avoiding her gaze. This irony, though… “Why do you ask?”

Marinette glanced up, still looking troubled. But, despite that…she seemed on the verge of telling her something. Alya could see it—there was a hint of a secret glimmering in her eyes, but there was doubt too, lots of it, as if she was contemplating sharing forbidden information…

Information that could change someone’s viewpoint about somebody…?

‘ _Oh_ shit.’

Was this…was this what Alya thought it was?

Was Marinette about to finally tell Alya her secret? Voluntarily?

Was she about to confess to being Ladybug?

Alya leaned forward as Marinette’s lips parted, eager to finally, _finally_ be trusted with such a huge secret. Granted, she had already been keeping said secret since she figured it out, but _Marinette_ didn’t know that, and it would mean so, so much to Alya to finally be taken into confidence for a secret so wondrous, so amazing, so _miraculous—_

“Ah, there they are! Afternoon, ladies!”

Marinette glanced away, and Alya had to hastily suppress the absolute _rage_ that threatened to pour out of her. She sent a sharp glare to the owner of the voice—her soon-to-be husband, who was approaching their table.

‘ _Soon-to-be_ dead _husband, more like,_ ’ Alya corrected in her mind as Nino paused, finally taking in her expression and eyeing her warily.

“Uh…everything okay?” He asked, rocking back on his heels for a moment.

Alya closed her eyes for a moment and made herself take a couple deep breaths. As much as she wanted to tell him to leave and come back later, it would no doubt be hard to recapture the moment of confidence between her and Marinette, now that they had been interrupted.

Besides, Lover Boy had just appeared at Nino’s shoulder, Alya couldn’t help but note once she opened her eyes, which meant that any conversation between her and Marinette was effectively over until the love birds quit each other’s company. _Damn_ it.

“You said you’d be another half hour,” Alya reminded Nino as he cautiously took a seat beside her, still looking at her as if she might bite him. Nino shrugged and gave a hesitant smile.

“My recording finished earlier than I thought. And Mr. Perfect was right on time, of course, so we—uh, dude? Hello, Adrien? What’re you doing?”

Alya glanced up at Adrien, who, for some mysterious reason, hadn’t taken his seat next to Marinette yet. He was just standing there, and he’d been staring at Marinette before Nino addressed him; he tore his gaze from his girlfriend, blinking in a startled fashion. Alya frowned; he had bags under _his_ eyes, too. What the hell?

“What?” He asked, looking quite surprised, as if it was rare for Nino to talk to him. Alya noticed her fiancé give his friend the same weird look she was giving him.

“Did you forget how to sit down or something?”

“Oh…”

Clearing his throat, Lover Boy finally sat, his posture a little too stiff and awkward, considering his past profession. He and Marinette also kept glancing at each other and missing, Alya couldn’t help but note, both of them blushing a fair amount.

Alya caught Nino’s gaze next, and he quirked an eyebrow at her, which she shrugged to. How the hell was she supposed to know what was up with them? The only thing Marinette had told her was that she and Adrien had finally started officially dating…and yet here they were, acting like two pre-pubescent teenagers on a first date. They weren’t ever this awkward _before_ they started dating. What gives?

“Okay, a Coke and a—” Their waiter stopped short, blinking at the sudden addition of two more people at the table. Unperturbed, Nino lifted a hand and smiled.

“Yo. I’ll have a Pepsi, if you don’t mind.”

“Water, please,” Adrien added, smiling as well. The waiter paused for just a moment longer before he set down the drinks he was already carrying, pulling out his notepad.

“A Pepsi and a water,” he muttered as he scribbled them down, glancing up at them expectantly. “Should I…expect any more drink orders?”

“Not for the moment,” Alya replied with a smile that was slightly apologetic. “Some bread would be good, though, thanks.”

The waiter nodded and departed once more, and Nino passed the Coke and the cappuccino to their rightful owners.

“Pepsi?” Alya questioned him, raising her eyebrows pointedly. Nino caught her meaning and rolled his eyes; they had had this debate one too many times already.

“They taste the same, Alya.”

“Then why didn’t you order a Coke?”

“Because I didn’t _want_ a Coke, I wanted a Pepsi.”

“Even though they supposedly taste the same?”

“Would you get off my back, woman?” Nino finally groaned, and Alya grinned. It was a stupid argument to have, sure, but Nino always made it funny with how he reacted. She was distracted from teasing him further by the activity across the table from them: Adrien cleared his throat once again, and finally consented to turn his head Marinette’s way.

“Hi,” he greeted her softly, smiling a little when she met his gaze. Marinette blushed even deeper, hurriedly dropping her gaze to the table again.

“H-hi,” she murmured back, nervously tucking a dark strand of hair behind her ear.

Alya raised an eyebrow, but before she could say anything, Nino broke the moment by bursting out laughing.

“Oh my _god,_ ” he chuckled, guffawing at the surprised looks on Adrien and Marinette’s faces. “What’s _with_ you two? It’s not like this is your first date or something. Let’s try being normal, okay?”

This made them flush more, and they took it in turns to shiftily glance at each other once again, not quite catching the other’s eye.

Alya frowned. Why was the air so _awkward_ between them?

“So,” she began, folding her hands under her chin and watching the two lovebirds critically, “How’d my advice work out last night, Agreste?”

Adrien flushed darker, but he managed a smile that looked sincere. Mostly.

“I really owe you,” he admitted, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand as he glanced askance at Marinette. “You, uh, could’ve warned me about the dress, though…”

It was Marinette’s turn to blush harder, and Alya grinned wickedly.

“Don’t look at me—that was all Marinette.”

“Oh yeah, I saw the pictures Alya took,” Nino said, slowly shaking his head and reaching across the table to pat Adrien’s shoulder. “Rest in peace, dude.”

“I didn’t die,” Adrien grumbled.

“It was close,” Marinette piped up, deciding to join the conversation. Adrien pouted at her, and she giggled behind a hand.

‘ _That’s better,_ ’ Alya decided as she watched them warm up to each other. She didn’t know what was causing the weirdness between them—new relationship status shyness?—but it didn’t seem like they were _completely_ hopeless—

“The akuma attack didn’t ruin anything, did it?” Nino asked, his brow furrowing.

Marinette and Adrien stiffened at the exact same time, Adrien staring blankly at Nino, and Marinette glaring at him in reproach. Alya took all of this in, suppressing a sigh.

It was tough, being the only one at this table who knew everything. It was made even worse when she knew that only two of the three oblivious superheroes she sat with knew each other’s identities, the odd man out being the cat man on the path to redemption…otherwise known as Adrien Agreste. So to watch Nino ask such an innocent-sounding question, knowing that he had no idea about his best friend and that Marinette knew nothing about her boyfriend and his secrets—

There it was again—that quick glance that missed, passed between Adrien and Marinette. They looked awfully skittish all of a sudden, Alya noted. She could guess why, of course—no doubt their date had to be put on hold as they separated, only to join up once again in costume to deal with the akuma. She shuddered inwardly at the lame excuses they must have made just to get away and transform…

“It, er, wasn’t a problem for very long,” Adrien mumbled, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand again. “Uh, L-Ladybug and Chat Noir took care of it, I think.”

“I think Emerald Shell was absent, though,” Marinette said, taking a casual sip of her cappuccino…after she sent a brief, pointed look Nino’s way. He cringed, and Alya had to work not to react; technically, it was partially her fault Nino had been too ‘busy’ to answer Marinette’s summons. Sure, it had been Valentine’s Day, and sure, Alya had told him not to answer the phone when it rang in the middle of their heated love-making, but the fact of the matter was that Nino had a higher purpose to serve now. So, even if the calls were sometimes inconvenient, he had to answer them. That’s just what being a hero entailed, and Alya understood that, even if she did make the effort to put up a fuss when Nino had to go ‘missing’ sometimes. She had to—if she was too understanding all the time, Nino would get suspicious, and they were both working to keep his secret identity just that: a secret.

“Well, at least we know the dynamic duo of the past can still get shit done when they need to,” Alya reasoned, both to spare Nino guilt and to tease Adrien. “I’m glad they still make a pretty good team.”

Again. There was that glance again, as if they couldn’t help but look at each other, but didn’t want to be _seen_ looking at each other. There was something in those quick gazes too, Alya noticed, something…searching.

As if—

“Here we are,” announced the waiter as he suddenly returned, placing the last two drinks on the table along with a basket of bread before whipping out his notepad again. “Are you all ready to order?”

“Er…” Adrien mumbled, and they all exchanged awkward glances—they had been so wrapped up in their conversation that they quite forgot about ordering anything for lunch. The waiter took in this pause, and then gave a little nod.

“I understand. I’ll give you a few more minutes and come back later.”

As he walked away, Alya saw Marinette cringe.

“He’s going to spit in all of our food at this point,” she worried, catching her lip in between her teeth. Alya snorted.

“Please—it’s not exactly busy in here right now. He’s probably taking a smoke break in the back because we’re taking so long.”

“We should probably figure out what we want to order, though,” Adrien pointed out, and they all opened their menus, musing over their choices and remarking which options looked good. Once the waiter came back, they were ready, and after they placed their orders, their talk shifted to safer, more mundane waters.

As Nino was discussing the nearly finished CD he and Bob Ross Records were working on, Alya kept her eyes on the awkward couple across the table, noting every shift and twitch and glance. She didn’t know what had happened between them, but there was _definitely_ something going on; the way they fidgeted around each other was way too telling. Adrien was trying to act normal, Alya could tell, but it seemed like Marinette’s restless energy was affecting him, too; he shifted when she did, glanced at her just when she looked away. His brow was furrowed, as if there was something he was debating within his own mind, and Marinette’s relentless chewing of her lip was threatening to split it open.

Alya frowned. What the hell was _with_ them?

“I gotta go to the bathroom,” she announced, pushing her chair back to stand up. She glanced at Marinette, flicking her eyes away to the restrooms, gesturing for her best friend to follow. Politely excusing herself, Marinette got up from the table and followed Alya to the bathroom. Alya glanced briefly under the stalls, checking that they were indeed alone, before she rounded on Marinette, arms crossed.

“Girl,” she began, her stern tone already making Marinette cringe. Nevertheless, she continued, “what is _up_ with you and Adrien? You’re both wound so tight that I’m tempted to lock you both in a bedroom together until you _thoroughly_ work out your tension with each other. I’m serious.”

Marinette gave a sigh, rubbing the side of her temple.

“Nothing’s… _wrong,_ exactly,” she mumbled, frowning down at the floor. “Just some…oddness…I’m dealing with.”

Alya shook her head, uncomprehending.

“‘Oddness’?” She quoted with a frown. “That’s not the word I’d use. You’ve been watching him since he got here, and yes, I know, he’s pretty and you two are deliriously in love—”

“I wouldn’t say ‘love’,” Marinette protested faintly, though she blushed at the word. Alya ignored her.

“—But it’s like you’re hyperaware of every move he makes, like you’re waiting for him to do something or say someth…”

Alya trailed off, staring at Marinette. Unbeknownst to her best friend—or Adrien or Nino, for that matter—Alya knew everything. She knew that Marinette was Ladybug, that Nino was Emerald Shell, and that Adrien was Chat Noir. She _also_ knew that _they_ didn’t know—at least, Nino and Marinette had no idea that Adrien was Chat Noir, and vice-versa. And neither Nino nor Marinette knew that Alya knew about them. Those were the facts, as Alya knew them…but…

But now, as she looked at Marinette, that ‘something’ appeared in her eyes again: a secret.

…A secret that, perhaps, was not hers to tell? If the anxiousness tightening her eyes was any indication…

‘… _oh SHIT._ ’

Suddenly, Marinette’s halting, hesitant question from earlier took on a whole new meaning, and Alya _had_ to slap her forehead in agitation, because seriously, these two were going to drive her into an _early grave_ , she swore to god.

“Alya?” Marinette questioned, blinking startled blue eyes at the sudden gesture of frustration. Alya gave a huff, folding her arms tighter as she gave Marinette a once-over. Though she had no concrete proof, Alya had enough faith in her deduction skills to know she was right—Marinette must have discovered who Chat Noir was last night. It was the only thing that made sense, from her cryptic question from earlier to her edgy behavior around Adrien just now. And Alya was willing to bet her press badge, her most valued possession in her line of work, that Adrien had a similar revelation the night before, because his behavior matched Marinette’s exactly. How it happened, Alya didn’t know—maybe they de-transformed in front of each other before they could get away? But how didn’t matter: the fact was that it _must_ have happened.

And _neither_ of them were discussing it.

The ‘locking them in a bedroom’ idea sounded better and better with every passing second.

Alya frowned. As tempting as it was to straighten this whole mess out herself—because for _fuck’s sake_ , what a mess!—she, unfortunately, had to recognize that such a feat was impossible for her. For one thing, no one knew that she knew, and she was trying to keep it that way since they were working so hard to protect their secret identities, and by extension, trying to protect her. And for another thing, as much as she wanted to force a resolution between her two not-so-clueless friends…this was an awfully delicate situation. Which meant that if Alya came in like a wrecking ball to break down these weird, flimsy walls that were erected overnight between Adrien and Marinette, there was a ninety percent chance that she would be doing way more harm than good. How did the saying go? ‘The road to hell is paved with good intentions’? Alya wasn’t sure if that was completely correct, but the point still stood…

When Marinette continued to look at her quizzically, Alya let out a long, drawn-out sigh before she stepped forward, embracing her friend. The move was clearly unanticipated; Marinette squeaked in surprise, freezing for a moment before she returned the hug, patting Alya’s back.

“Um…is everything okay?” She asked hesitantly, and Alya couldn’t help the snort that escaped her as she pulled back to look at her friend. Her sweet, totally badass superhero friend, who was clearly having a crisis about her boyfriend also being her superhero partner…jeez. Alya didn’t envy her one bit.

“I should be asking you that,” she responded dryly, quirking a brow. “Seriously: are you and Adrien gonna be okay, despite whatever’s going on at that table with you two? Or do I seriously need to drag you both off to an unattended bedroom somewhere?”

Marinette giggled, a note of hysteria just detectable in her laugh.

“No, don’t do that,” she requested, shaking her head a little before giving a small smile. “Adrien and I…we’re fine. Like I said, just some…oddness…I’m working out. It’s my problem, not his…and I’ll get over it.”

Alya searched Marinette’s eyes for any hint of misgivings. She found them—not that she expected not to, because had she been in Marinette’s shoes, she would’ve had a lot of doubts and questions herself—but there was something stronger there, in her friend’s eyes: bravery.

It appeared that Marinette did not yet know what she would do about the situation she found herself in…but even so, this was by no means the end of it. Once Marinette found her answer, she would see it through. It was her way, after all, as Alya knew good and well.

Huffing one last time, Alya returned Marinette’s smile.

“…Okay,” she relented, reaching out and giving Marinette’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll let it go, then, since I have faith in you. But you know I’ve got your back if you need anything, right?”

Marinette smiled, and Alya felt relieved. There was her girl. Good.

“I know. Thanks, Alya.” Marinette gave her a curious look. “Now, did you really need to pee, or can we go back to the table? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

“Yeah, we shouldn’t keep the boys waiting too long, anyway,” Alya replied, making her way back to the bathroom door with a grin. “Who knows what shenanigans they might get into if left unattended?”

 

* * *

 

“Listen, Fluffy, if you don’t quit dicking around—”

“I’m not dicking around, Squirt,” Chat Noir replied with a huff, and Emerald Shell rolled his eyes as they dodged another attack from the akuma. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea to charge in again until we can figure out what the actual possessed item is. Last time we guessed wrong, Ladybug got clipped.”

Shell felt his expression turn grim. It hadn’t been easy, getting Ladybug to agree to keep out of the fight until they located the true akuma for her to purify—she kept insisting that she could still fight, despite bleeding freely from her right shoulder, which affected her ability to throw her yo-yo. Shell knew that this didn’t make her ineffective, but he couldn’t deny his concern, especially with all the blood. Still, she had been stubborn about being asked to sit this one out…until Chat Noir stepped in, that is. He hadn’t said much—in fact, he only said two words, clutching Ladybug’s good shoulder as he stared down at her, profound worry in his gaze, as if he and Shell had just found her with a knife sticking out of her gut:

“Ladybug… _please._ ”

And just like that, a red-faced Ladybug had caved, and Shell was stuck marveling over that minutes later as he and Chat continued to fight the blade-based akuma. Something strange was going on between Ladybug and Chat—stranger than usual, in fact. They were being oddly careful and formal with each other, even moving carefully near each other, as if it was a struggle to behave themselves around each other. It made Shell uneasy; though he knew Marinette and Adrien had agreed to date each other officially on Valentine’s Day, here Chat and Ladybug were, behaving as if they were afraid to be caught in an illicit affair. Something must have happened between them when Shell wasn’t here, and though he knew Marinette wasn’t that kind of girl, he couldn’t help but worry. With them acting so weird around each other, what was Shell _supposed_ to think?

Shell heard Chat swear, and he was pulled out of his own head, giving him a questioning look. Chat wasn’t looking at him, however, but away, his cat’s eyes narrowed at something to the side—no, some _one_ —

A familiar red-head raised a hand and waved, grinning as she held her phone in her free hand. Recording the heroics of her beloved superheroes.

Shell let out a groan. She was going to be the death of him.

“Can I trust you to handle the akuma for a bit while I get rid of her?” Shell asked, throwing a searching glance Chat’s way. Chat shrugged casually, though he didn’t look happy.

“For a bit, yeah.” His ring gave a chirp, and he gave it an uneasy glance. “Hurry up, though—I’ve already used my Cataclysm for this battle, so I don’t have much time left.”

“See if LB has a Lucky Charm that can get us out of this,” Shell instructed, watching curiously as Chat’s face flushed.

“Oh, uh, right, Ladybug. Yeah…”

That might as well have been a written confession: there was _definitely_ something going on. But Shell couldn’t focus on it right now—his fiancée had attracted the attention of Shredder, and he had to step in before she got sliced up. He acted just in the nick of time, grabbing Alya around the middle and raising his shield just as a row of knives were flung in their direction. They were deflected, but that didn’t seem to deter the akuma. Shell swore as Shredder readied another attack, but Chat distracted him in the next moment, waving something red with black spots around as Ladybug carefully crept around in the background, holding her injured shoulder. They had this, Shell was pretty sure…but still, he didn’t like the thought of Ladybug fighting with such a nasty injury, even if her restorative powers could fix it, in the end—

“What are you doing here?” He questioned Alya, turning on her with a scowl. Alya seemed unperturbed by his attitude; with a smirk, she lifted her phone higher, aiming her camera at his face.

“Well hello, Emerald Shell,” she greeted, just a _hint_ of flirtation in her tone. Shell swallowed as she stepped closer. “Come to finally give me that one-on-one interview you owe me?”

“I never agreed to that,” Shell replied, placing a hand over Alya’s phone to lower it from his face, giving her a look. “And you shouldn’t be here. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a guy flinging _blades_ over there.”

“And his chosen name is Shredder,” Alya added, giving him a grin as she looked him up and down. “You must be living a really sweet nerdy fantasy right now.”

Shell grew embarrassed. He _had_ noted the akuma’s name with some amusement, sure, but since it wasn’t the _actual_ Shredder from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, it didn’t _quite_ count. However, it was close enough, and it embarrassed him that Alya seemed to know about his secret amusement. It didn’t even matter when he had a mask on—she still knew him like the back of her own hand, and it was unnerving.

“Don’t change the subject,” he asserted to cover for his sudden nervousness around his too-perceptive fiancée. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s dangerous.”

“I’m keeping out of the way,” Alya insisted, apparently forgetting the fact that Shell had had to step in the way of _actual knives_ that would have _skewered_ her, were it not for his shield. The Butterfly was no longer pulling any punches, and the akumas just kept getting more and more dangerous with every passing day, something that did not escape the notice of Paris’ three superheroes. Shooing civilians and foolish news reporters away from battles was steadily becoming a problem on its own, _especially_ when the stubborn ones refused to heed their warnings, i.e. Alya.

But before Shell could protest further, Alya cut him off.

“Besides, I think Ladybug and Chat Noir have things covered.”

Shell glanced over to where she pointed, just in time to see Ladybug catching an akuma out of the air, one that thankfully did not crumble. The akuma was purified, she flung her Lucky Charm into the air with her magic chant, and in a matter of seconds, the victim was de-akumatized, the damage to Ladybug and the city reversed, and Paris was safe once again. Shell let out a breath, rubbing the back of his head through his hood. Thank god—Shredder was beginning to get exhausting.

Shell watched, his assertion that something was off growing when he noticed the way Chat and Ladybug reacted to each other; after the victim seemed to refuse their offer of assistance home and chose to depart on his own, Chat raised his fist for that bump he and Ladybug used to do. Ladybug hesitated a moment before gently bumping her knuckles against his. They paused, looking at each other, and though Ladybug’s back was to Shell so he couldn’t see her expression, he knew he didn’t like something about the look on Chat’s face as he stared down at her. Time to go auspiticize for them. Again.

“Go home,” he directed Alya, throwing her a brief glance over his shoulder as he slid his shield onto his back. “There’s nothing more to see here.”

Alya raised an eyebrow at him, ignoring his words and choosing to follow him anyway as he paced towards his teammates.

“And since when are you the boss of me?”

“Don’t you have a boyfriend to go home to?” Shell reminded her, rolling his eyes at Chat, who glanced up as Shell approached and gave him a look, presumably over the fact that Alya was still here.

“Fiancé,” Alya corrected him, her tone amused, for some reason Shell couldn’t fathom. He glanced back at her just in time to see her flash her ring at him. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

“Congratulations. When’s the big day?”

“Not set yet,” Alya said with a sigh and a roll of her eyes as the two of them paused next to Ladybug and Chat Noir. “He’s been so busy lately that we barely have time to see each other most days, let alone set a date.”

Shell looked away, uncomfortable. He and Alya had finally stopped fighting over all the time they couldn’t spend together, in between Alya’s class schedule, their respective jobs, and Shell’s superhero duties, but it was still hard. And hearing Alya acknowledge that, to total strangers (as far as she knew) wasn’t pleasant, either.

“Well I’m sure he’s a good guy who has a lot of very important things to do,” Chat said unexpectedly, surprising Shell, who glanced over at him with a startled look, taking in the frown he was giving Alya.

Was the mangy cat bastard actually _defending_ him? Not that Chat could possibly know who Shell was under the mask, but still…

“Besides, don’t you think you’d have more time with him if you stopped chasing _us_ all over the city?” Chat added, folding his arms and ignoring yet another beep from his Miraculous. Alya abruptly smirked at him, and Chat eyed her warily, his cat ears flattening against his head.

“…You would think,” Alya said cryptically, after Chat lost the staring contest in between them by glancing away. Shell glanced between them, privately amused that Chat seemed cowed by Alya for some odd reason. But the moment was shattered the minute he heard it—angry voices on the horizon, accompanied by the march of stomping feet.

Shell turned towards the noise and swore.

Protestors—former Chat Noir supporters, now known as the hate group called the Anti-Akuma Taskforce—were on the horizon. And tonight, there were no picket signs.

Tonight, there were bats and clubs, things that could break and bludgeon anyone, even superheroes, if they weren’t careful.

“Great,” Ladybug groaned, and she and Shell stepped in front of Alya, shielding her from view.

“Go home, Alya,” Shell commanded once again, but he didn’t have time to see if she would listen to him this time: the mob was upon them. They were diminished in numbers now—the police had cracked down hard on the hate group, and so far, there had been no more terrorist acts committed by the AAT. But the hate in their expressions was still real, and as they all filed in a line, glaring at the three superheroes and the single civilian in their midst, Shell became uncomfortably aware of the fact that they were still outnumbered, superpowers or no.

It was the large man directly in front of them—the leader, Shell presumed—that spoke first.

“Chat Noir. You have abandoned us.”

Chat tensed, standing straight and perfectly still, not bulging a muscle, save for his eyes, which flicked up and down the line of hate-filled citizens before him, almost as if he was counting his sins. Shell saw Ladybug take his hand, but he didn’t seem to react to the contact.

“We, who followed your philosophy faithfully, who subscribe to your belief that the akuma menace _must_ end by _any_ means necessary…have been abandoned. People who believed in you have suffered in your name—we have been jailed and harassed, persecuted because we want _justice_. And yet _you_ continue to walk free simply by pretending you’ve had a change of heart.”

The large man’s gaze flickered to Ladybug, disdain etched in his expression.

“Must be nice, to have the adored superheroine of Paris in your pocket.”

“Leave her out of this,” Chat snarled, taking a challenging step forward and abruptly looking feral, his pupils becoming furious slits as he bared his teeth. “This has nothing to do with her.”

“It has _everything_ to do with her!” Spat a woman in front of Shell, and he recognized with a jolt the woman who had tossed one of the Molotov cocktails at the akumatized victim known as Chisel’s house, the same fire and fury in her gaze from that night present in her thin face now. What the hell was she doing out of jail?!

“If it weren’t for Ladybug, you’d still be on our side!” Shouted another AAT member.

“Our city isn’t safe, Chat Noir!”

“The akumas _must_ be destroyed!”

“No!” Chat shouted, shaking his head so fiercely that his messy hair was on the verge of escaping its ponytail. “Listen to me—I was wrong! Hurting the akumatized victims…it’s _wrong!_ I know I misled you all, I know it’s _my_ fault you’re like this, and I’m sorry, I’m _so_ sorry. But you have to stop this! The _real_ enemy is the Butterfly! It’s _them_ we have to stop!”

“And another thing, Ladybug,” The presumed leader of the AAT barked, ignoring Chat; Shell scowled and stepped forward when he tried to get in Ladybug’s face, staring him down with his shield raised as the man’s grip tightened on his bat. He scowled at Shell, but then craned his neck around him, glaring at Ladybug. “You _murdered_ Hawk Moth seven years ago, and yet there was absolutely no retribution for it. Is it only acceptable for _heroes_ to eliminate threats to the city? Does the weight you throw around with your magic jewelry grant you a ‘get out of jail free’ card, too?”

“Back off, man,” Shell said through clenched teeth, putting pressure on his shield to back the man up. “You don’t know what you’re—”

“Shell,” said a sudden, low voice right behind Shell, “ _move._ ”

Shell turned to protest—

Ladybug’s expression radiated absolute _fire_ , a torrent of holy justice ready to rain down on the sorry sucker who had foolishly beckoned it forward. Without looking at Shell, she gestured at him to step aside. And when she looked like _that,_ Shell had no good reason to disobey. He stepped out of the way, and Ladybug moved forward, cold fury etched into every feature of her face, her hard, bluebell gaze on the AAT leader.

“…You know, I once pitied you. All of you. I thought your mistaken convictions were my partner’s fault— _my_ fault. I thought I had failed you, that I somehow fell short of your expectations of what a hero _should_ be. But now I see you.”

Ladybug jabbed a finger at the AAT leader, and though she did not touch him, he flinched anyway, betraying, for just a moment, his hidden fear before his expression smoothed over into one of sneering indifference. But Shell had already seen him—the small man beneath the bluster and ignorant anger. And Ladybug had seen him, too, and she seized upon that hidden fear, baring her teeth.

“You’re nothing but scared children, lashing out at something you don’t understand in exactly the wrong way, making the situation _worse_ than it actually is. So in the name of your ‘justice’, you terrorize the city I love in your own way—with fearmongering and ignorance. And then you accuse _me_ of ‘throwing my weight around’, acting like I’m a hypocrite, when you know damn well that the difference between what you want to do to the akumatized victims and what I did to Hawk Moth is _intent._ ”

Ladybug folded her arms, judgement in her furious eyes as she looked down her nose at the AAT leader, the look effective even though he was taller than her.

“I didn’t mean to kill Hawk Moth. I was responsible, but I never wanted him dead. But you threw _bombs_ into _another citizen’s house_ for something he had _no_ control over! If you think the akumatized victims are monsters, then what does that make you?”

“ _We’re_ not the ones tearing up the city and threatening innocent folks every other night!” Shouted the bomb-flinging woman from before.

“Yes you are! You’re persecuting _victims_ , damn it!” Shell shot back, scowling when she hissed furiously at him.

“Those people are inherently evil if they allow themselves to let a madman possess them! Chat Noir taught us that!” Cried another AAT member.

“I was _wrong!_ ” Chat protested once again, looking beyond frustrated. “Some of _you_ have even been akumatized, for fuck’s sake! How are you not choking on your own hypocrisy by standing here and claiming that akumatized victims are inherently evil?! At least _I_ realized that there’s something wrong with this mindset!”

A few faces in the Anti-Akuma Taskforce paled, suddenly looking fearful, as if Chat Noir was about to call them out by name. Before he got a chance to, however, the leader slammed the bat he was carrying into the ground next to him, the sharp sound making Shell’s ears ache.

“ _We are not the problem!_ ” He asserted fiercely, an ugly grimace on his purple face as he sneered at Ladybug. “We came to try and make Chat Noir see reason, but clearly you have him on too short a leash for him to think for himself anymore, Ladybug. So this is a declaration of independence— _you_ may not have the nerve to do what needs to be done, but the Anti-Akuma Taskforce will _not_ falter, until the akuma problem has been solved! Permanently!”

The answering cry to this rally call was cut short when something purple and gooey suddenly splattered against the side of the AAT leader’s head. For a moment, everyone froze, blinking in surprise, Shell included.

What…just happened…?

“Over here, jackasses!”

Shell’s head whipped around to his left, and in a second, he felt his mouth come open with a pop.

There was _another_ mob of people, appearing from around cars and buildings…but this mob was distinctly odd in that they were dressed in multi-colored sweat suits, and there was face paint over their faces…in the shape of _masks_. They all seemed to be congregating around one single figure—a short woman that stood atop a parked BMW with cropped, yet messy pink hair, dressed in black, red, and green clothes not uncommon to a skate park, the top half of her face covered in green paint that gradually faded to black across her nose and cheeks, a sassy little smirk turning up the corners of her mouth, blue eyes bright and excited…

Shell stared. That…wasn’t who he _thought_ it was, was it? Granted, he couldn’t really tell because he hadn’t seen her in a while, but—

“You hear that?” The woman spoke to her comrades, slipping a hand into the bag that hung at her side, and withdrawing a handful of gelatinous, purple goo—the same goo that was still stuck to the AAT leader’s head. “Apparently, they think there’s an akuma problem in this city.” She began to casually toss the goo ball into the air, catching it without effort as she smirked at the superheroes and the Anti-Akuma Taskforce. “What do _you_ guys think? Should we _give_ them a problem?”

“Yeah!” The crowd around her cheered, and before Shell knew, they were _all_ armed with that weird, gelatinous goo, wicked smiles spreading across their painted faces.

It was the leader of the AAT that spoke the question reverberating through Shell’s mind:

“Who the hell are _you?_ ”

The woman in front smiled, as if she could not be more pleased that he had asked.

“We’re Akumatized Victims Anonymous—that’s AVA for you pea-brains, by the way.” As she raised her throwing arm, so did her comrades, poised and ready to attack. Her smirk wide, the woman continued, “I’m Timebreaker. And we’re here to _wreck your shit._ ”

Shell had the presence of mind to think fast—he grabbed Alya and Ladybug, who were closest, and yanked them to the ground, trusting that Ladybug would seize Chat purely on instinct. (She did.) Shell managed to get his force field activated just in time for it to rain purple goo on the Anti-Akuma Taskforce, goo that slid harmlessly off his force field with the four of them inside. He watched, his mouth open in awe as the members of Akumatized Victims Anonymous—AVA— _stormed_ the street, people in face paint and sweat suits fighting the hate group with fists, kicks and goo, the one identifying herself as Timebreaker—which basically confirmed her identity to Shell—fighting in tandem with another woman whose face was painted pink with a splash of yellow in the middle of her forehead to match her amber eyes; she seemed to be supporting more than fighting, supplying the rest of AVA with the goo along with some guy with red hair and a dark purple mask painted over his teal eyes, though this painted mask was more artistic than the others.

“…This is _so cool,_ ” Shell heard Alya breathe, and he was both amused and concerned; he hoped she wouldn’t start getting any ideas about reviving Lady Wi-Fi…

“It is _not_ cool!” Ladybug protested, just as one of the AVA members got whacked with an AAT member’s bat. She, Shell, Alya, and Chat cringed simultaneously. “We have to _do_ something!”

“What are we supposed to do, exactly?” Shell asked, staring at the chaos occurring around their little safe bubble as the violence outside continued to escalate. “There’s too many of them! It’s not like we can round up all of them at once.”

There were several shrill beeps, and Ladybug and Chat Noir swore at the same time.

“And it’s not like we have a lot of time _to_ do anything,” Chat added, sending an anxious glance Ladybug’s way as he clutched his right hand within his left, as if to guard his ring from harm.

Ladybug huffed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I know, I know! But we can’t just _leave_ them like this! Whatever their viewpoints, they’re _all_ citizens, and they’re _our_ responsibility!”

“Speak for yourself; I don’t claim the AAT,” Shell said dryly, unbothered by Ladybug’s glare.

“…I might have an idea,” Alya spoke up, and all gazes turned to her, Shell taking in her calculating expression. “If it works, it’ll save you guys a lot of time. But you have to let me out of this thing, first.” She tapped a knuckle against Shell’s force field.

“No,” Shell answered with a frown, ignoring Alya’s raised brows. “It’s dangerous out there.”

“It’s not like I’m gonna run straight into the fighting,” Alya replied, giving him a flat look. “Give me some credit, would you?”

“I think it would make us all feel better if you told us what you were up to,” Chat said, glancing away hastily when Alya turned her gaze on him next.

“Do you _really_ have time to debate the issue, Whiskers?” She asked him, tapping his right hand for emphasis.

Chat scowled, and Shell had to work to repress his grin. He loved this woman.

“LB?” Shell asked, looking to Ladybug. He had his own feelings about this idea, of course, but even he had to admit that their backs were against the wall at the moment, with an all-out _brawl_ happening centimeters from them while they all remained safe and unharmed under Shell’s force field, two of the heroes about to de-transform. Ideal situation or not, though, Ladybug was the leader of Team Miraculous. Her team, her call.

Ladybug gave Alya a long, hard stare. Shell sympathized with a lot of the emotions running through her eyes, and Alya seemed to pick up on them as well; she smiled gently, reaching for Ladybug’s arm and giving it a squeeze.

“Relax, Ladybug. Would your number one fan do anything to worry you?”

A corner of Ladybug’s mouth turned up.

“Several things, actually,” she remarked dryly, and Alya grimaced at the truth of her words, “…but I trust you.”

Alya beamed. Recognizing defeat, Shell reluctantly dropped his force field. The four of them leapt to their feet, Alya streaking off in the opposite direction from them. Shell moved to follow her, but was forced to duck a wad of goo that was flung dangerously close to his head, and he lost track a things for a while, amidst fighting bodies and purple goo getting _everywhere._ Poor Wayzz…as soon as Nino got home, he was going to run a nice, hot bath for his poor, abused kwami. Hopefully the goo wouldn’t be a pain to get off—

There was the sound of abrupt sirens, and at once, everyone paused, picking up on the noise.

“Hey!” Called Alya’s voice, and Shell craned his neck from where he was lodged under an AAT member and an AVA member, shield stuck in the middle of them. Alya looked frazzled as she came into view, pointing a finger back the way she had come.

“The police are coming!!” She cried. The AAT member trying to get to the AVA member behind Shell’s shield cursed, and at once, he and his fellows began to retreat. Shell didn’t blame them—the police had treated their group none-too-kindly as of late. Not that they didn’t deserve it, in Shell’s opinion, but still—

“We’d better book it, too,” said a tall AVA member, red paint splashed across his dark eyes, his cocky smirk matching Timebreaker’s as he approached her right-hand side. “C’mon guys!”

As they absconded as well, the healthy ones assisting the members that sustained brutal bat injuries, Shell saw Ladybug reach out and take Timebreaker by the arm as she tried to pass by.

“Hold on…this isn’t right, you know. Some of you got seriously hurt in this fight.”

Timebreaker glanced behind her, and Shell thought he saw her gaze tighten for a brief moment before she turned her gaze back to Ladybug…and shrugged.

“Everyone knew what they were getting into when they joined,” she said matter-of-factly. “Bloodshed’ll happen.”

“But this isn’t your fight,” Chat said with a frown. Timebreaker turned to him next, her eyes cooling as she gazed up at him.

“ _Au contraire,_ Chat Noir,” she drawled, sounding his name out like an expletive, “it was made our fight the minute you turned your back on us.”

“Alix!”

“I’m coming! Damn!” Timebreaker huffed, wheeling around and speeding after the tall guy; they appeared to get into an argument about him using her civilian name out in the open as they disappeared into the darkness. It was quiet for a moment, save for the police sirens still ringing in the distance.

“…Well. That was interesting,” Shell said with a shake of his head, as if this was all a dream that would disappear the moment he fully woke up.

“Interesting’s a good word,” Chat conceded, his eyes tight; it looked like Timebreaker’s comment to him was still bothering him.

“I’d call it a pain in the ass, personally,” huffed Ladybug, rubbing the bridge of her nose again, covered in purple goo splotches like Shell and Chat, along with her usual spots. “Thank god the police are on their way.”

Shell noticed the way his fiancee’s eyebrow lifted.

“The police?” She questioned, just a hint of a smirk beginning to form on her face. “Why should the police come? Nobody’s called them.”

Shell gaped at her.

“You mean…?”

Grinning, Alya jerked her head back the way she had come, turning on her heel and heading back.

“Come on, I’ll show you.”

The three heroes exchanged looks before following Alya to an alleyway, the source of the sirens loud and unpleasant in close proximity…and very, _very_ fake.

“A speaker?” Ladybug questioned over the loud siren, blinking in surprise as the three of them stopped at the mouth of the alleyway, where Alya’s phone was hooked up to a large speaker set on a dolly. Alya grinned at them as her fingers swiped across the phone screen, and the sound died away.

“I remembered there was a music store near here,” Alya explained, jerking her thumb down the alleyway, where a little hole-in-the-wall music shop could just be seen. “I managed to persuade the owner to let me borrow a speaker real fast and brought it over here. I would’ve gotten flashing lights if I could, but there wasn’t much time.”

Stunned silence followed the explanation of Alya’s scheming.

“…That was a clever trick,” Chat said after a moment. Alya shrugged, though Shell could tell that she was flattered.

“What can I say? I’m brilliant when I want to be.”

There were several shrill beeps, and Ladybug and Chat Noir eyed each other nervously.

“I…I should go,” Ladybug said, though she made no move to leave, nor did Chat Noir, even as he agreed that he should depart as well. The two just stood there, staring at each other with those weird expressions they’d been making at each other all night. Shell huffed, folding his arms.

“What’s _with_ you two?” He demanded at last, scowling at the startled expressions they shot him, as if they had forgotten he was there. _Again._ “You’ve been acting weird all night!”

“Nothing,” Ladybug and Chat Noir said hastily, avoiding his gaze. With hasty goodbyes, the two departed in opposite directions to de-transform, and Shell shook his head. ‘Nothing’ his shell. What the hell was he going to do with those two?

He began to follow after Ladybug, but then paused, turning to look at Alya, who was busy unlocking the wheels of the dolly. With a grunt, she yanked it backwards, rolling it down the alleyway. Shell took a step forward.

“Here, let me—”

“I got it, Turtle Boy,” said Alya, waving a careless hand in his direction as she continued to pull on the dolly’s handle. “I’m no damsel in distress, you know.”

Shell allowed himself to smile.

“No…I guess you’re not.” He took a step back. “All right, then I’ve gotta run, too. Give your fiancé my regards.”

Alya paused, smirking at him. There was something almost… _knowing,_ there in her eyes…but of course, Shell must be seeing things, because there was no way Alya knew what was _really_ going on here…

“I’ll do that. But don’t be surprised if he’s ready to kick your ass for flirting with me, Turtle Boy.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Shell replied with as much dignity as he could around the grin stretching across his face before he tugged off his shield, turned it into his hover board, and sped away, working to wipe the foolish smile off his face. She _was_ brilliant, his fiancée, and sassy and smart and beautiful…and she had just gotten them out of what would’ve been a huge pain with nothing more than a speaker and her phone. Amazing.

Shell was distracted from his thoughts by the sight of Marinette waving him down from the shadows of a nearby building. He joined her and de-transformed, apologizing profusely to a goo-spattered Wayzz, who accepted his current fate with good grace and settled himself into Nino’s pocket for the time being.

“Damn. Talk about an eventful night, huh?” Nino said to Marinette, scratching the back of his head as they gained the sidewalk, working to look casual as always, even if not many people were around at the moment. From the corner of his eye, he saw Marinette shake her head.

“The Anti-Akuma Taskforce…Akumatized Victims Anonymous…I’m beginning to think nobody trusts us to do our jobs anymore.”

“Yeah…at the same time, though…it’s kind of cool.”

Marinette shot a frown Nino’s way.

“It is _not_ cool, Nino.”

“Well, them putting themselves in danger wasn’t cool, I admit,” Nino backtracked, frowning to himself at the thought. “But what _is_ cool is the victims banding together. That kind of support…I wish I’d had that when I was younger. Because it was _scary,_ ‘Nette, even before all this anti-akuma hate began. Knowing you were used in some crazy man’s schemes and not being able to do anything about it—not being able to _remember_ it, even. So though it’s crazy for AVA to be roaming around the streets, too, picking fights with the AAT—god, there’s too many A’s involved here…anyway, I kind of envy that they have each other.”

Marinette’s expression softened, and she reached up, squeezing Nino’s shoulder.

“You have me, Nino. And Adrien and Alya, too. And though neither Adrien nor I can really relate to what happened when you were akumatized, Alya can.”

“That’s true,” Nino answered quietly, his frown becoming more pronounced. “I don’t always like talking about it, and I know she doesn’t either…but when I need her, she’s there.”

“Gotta love Alya,” Marinette agreed, smiling as they walked along through the nearly empty streets of Paris. They fell into companionable silence for a time, each wrapped up in their own thoughts. It was Nino who broke it first, voicing the concern he’d been harboring all night:

“So are you gonna tell me what was up with you and Chat Noir tonight? Or would I rather not know?”

Marinette sighed, sounding like the action was pulled from deep within her. Nino frowned. Was what was going on _that_ bad?

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” she refuted his concerns, eyeing him with a flat look for a moment. “There’s just…something I’m worried about, that’s all.”

“What?”

Marinette went quiet, her eyes on the sky. Nino waited, counting seconds in his head—he got to ninety before she spoke again.

“Tonight was too much for us.”

Nino’s frown deepened once again. He didn’t like to think of anything being too much for them to handle—they had _superpowers_ for god’s sake—but even he had to admit, if only privately, that tonight probably would’ve bested them, if it weren’t for Alya’s quick thinking—

“I’ve been thinking…and I want yours and Chat’s opinion on this, but we’ll ask Chat later: what do you think of a fourth Miraculous holder for Team Miraculous?”

That brought Nino up short; he halted in his tracks, staring at Marinette, who paused as well, speculation in her expression as she stared up at Nino. And, Nino, for his part, didn’t know what to say. This was so out of left field that all he could do was stare at her for a moment before he remembered how to respond.

“…A fourth?” He questioned, blinking in a startled fashion. “You want a fourth superhero running around with us? You, who _hates_ new superheroes?”

“I don’t _hate_ them,” Marinette denied with a frown, folding her arms defensively as she scowled at Nino. “The Volpina incident just put me a little on edge, that’s all. And I don’t like being surprised with new superheroes. I’m _Ladybug_. I should know these things.”

Nino raised a brow.

“So the only reason you’re open to the idea now…is because you’re the one suggesting it?”

Marinette gave a shrug.

“That helps…” she trailed off, her expression becoming troubled. “…But if AVA plans to stick around—and if I know Alix, they will be—we can’t be put in a situation where we’re overwhelmed again.”

That, Nino had to agree with. Being stuck in the middle of a feud between akuma haters and former akumatized victims, like they were in the middle of some sort of civil war, was something straight out of Marvel comics…and Nino did _not_ appreciate his life imitating fiction.

“So, what were you thinking? You wanna see if we can try and get Pavone on our side after all?”

Marinette shook her head.

“No. He’s too elusive. I doubt he’ll show up to help us now, even if we knew how to ask him.”

“Then, what? You wanna try with the two Miraculous we still have?”

Marinette gazed up at him, a spark of something in her bluebell eyes…anxiousness?

“…Actually…I was thinking, if Chat agrees that we need more help…then the decision on who it should be should be left up to you.”

Nino stared at her.

…Okay, she just _had_ to be yanking his chain at this point.

“You’re the leader of Team Miraculous, ‘Nette, not me.”

“But you’re the Guardian now, Nino,” Marinette reminded him, taking his wrist and lifting it so that the jade bracelet he wore caught the light of the nearby street lamps. “Choosing new Miraculous holders is part of your job.”

Nino groaned, unable to help it. He had forgotten all about that part of the job description.

“I’m still new here, ‘Nette. Turtle Miraculous or not, I don’t think I’m qualified—”

“You _are_ qualified,” Marinette cut him off firmly, her tone so sure that it brought Nino’s building sense of self-doubt to an abrupt halt. “Pavone chose you for the Turtle Miraculous, and though we don’t really know what he was thinking, the fact that he acted on Master Fu’s orders—and the fact that Master Fu _approved_ the choice—proves that you’re more than qualified.”

Marinette’s hands went to Nino’s shoulders, her fingers flexing over them as she stared up at him, her eyes determined.

“I don’t care when you joined, Nino. The fact is that you’re a part of Team Miraculous as much as I am, and that your opinions, your actions, _you_ matter. And it’s heavy, being a superhero. I know it is—believe me, I know. But you can do it, because I’m here, and so is Chat…even if it took him a while to come around.”

Marinette smiled, her blue eyes bright.

“I know you never asked for this, Nino. And I know being the Guardian adds extra weight on your shoulders now…but I know that you know what you’re doing. So, if Chat agrees that we could use a fourth, I’ll leave the decision to you, because I know you’ll choose right. Because it’s you.”

Nino felt himself flush. Well damn…when she put it like that…how could he refuse?

“…Okay,” he replied after letting out a breath, smiling a little. “With so much faith put in me, how can I say no?”

“No pressure,” Marinette teased with a wink, letting her hands slide away from him as they resumed their walk. “And this is only if Chat agrees, too. I want all of us to be on the same page here before we bring someone else into this.”

“He’ll say yes,” Nino said confidently, sliding a sly look Marinette’s way. “If he knows this is what you want—”

“Don’t start,” Marinette warned him with a roll of her eyes. Nino shrugged, unperturbed by her attitude.

“I’m just saying.”

Nino barely registered Marinette’s groan, his mind whirring with thoughts of his status as Guardian, his duty…and how heavy indeed it was. That was a lot of pressure, picking someone who would wear the mantle of “superhero” well…who would get along with the three of them…whose powers would add something to the team, when used wisely…someone who was clever, quick on their feet, strong-willed, and had a good heart…someone who would look good in yellow with black stripes, or orange and white…

Nino stifled his sigh. He didn’t want to start complaining, after Marinette had proved that she had faith in him beyond a shadow of a doubt, but already, this task was shaping up to be impossible.

Seriously, with all the qualities he was thinking of…where on _earth_ was he going to find someone like _that?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> ~~Give him a minute.~~
> 
>  
> 
> Happy Halloween! :D
> 
> ~Reyna


	27. Aesthetic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. How's it going?
> 
> ...
> 
> Yeah, me too.
> 
> Well, despite the...events...of last week, I hope you guys are doing all right. My non-American friends too; I hope you're all well, because I care about all of you~ Keep your heads up: this ain't the end, and we are far from beaten, that I can promise you. In the meantime, keep each other safe, and I hope this friggin' WALL OF TEXT is a welcome break from reality, should you need it.
> 
> I love you guys.
> 
> Enjoy~ <3
> 
> EDIT: Fighting with coding SUCKS, but I FINALLY got the links later on in the chapter to work! Yay me!
> 
> ~Reyna

The woman screamed, racing through the street as fast as her heels would allow. She glanced back behind her, eyes wide and fearful as the gang of men pursued her, jeering and taunting her, just waiting for her to make a wrong move—take a wrong turn, trip and fall, for one of her heels to snap from the strain—

The woman ran past a dark alleyway, passing briefly under the light of a single streetlight nearby, but before the men could chase her any further, something was abruptly in their path, seemingly manifesting from the shadows of the alleyway beside them. They watched, transfixed, as a dark form took shape: it was huge and _monstrous_ , pitch black with jagged teeth and glowing white eyes. As the men stared, it spoke to them in a growling, _terrifying_ voice:

“ _If you don’t want to see what a bigger monster like me will do to smaller monsters like you, I would run. Now._ ”

Their faces white, the men scattered in a hurry. The monstrous figure began to dissolve, and then reformed into another figure—that of a woman with long hair. There was nothing else distinctive about her, for her form was too dark to make out any other defining characteristics, as if she was made from nothing but darkness itself.

No, wait, scratch that—there was still her eyes, which glowed white, bright, and eerie. She seemed to pause a moment, watching the men she just frightened away scatter…and then she turned, looking directly at Marinette.

She sat back from her computer screen, startled. The person holding the camera must have felt similar shock, for they gasped, and the video abruptly cut off there. Marinette stared at the black screen of the video, breathing slowly as she tried to reason her heart back into its normal rhythm. Well, _that_ had been unexpectedly terrifying…

“Shit,” Nino swore softly beside her; she turned to find him rubbing his stubbly chin, golden eyes narrowed behind his glasses as he frowned at the computer screen. “She’s no joke.”

“Yeah…”

Marinette took another breath, tapping her mouse to close out of the full screen mode the video was in. She stared blankly at the YouTube page, at the single video they were able to find after scouring the internet for the rumored videos of Shade that Erika mentioned. She wasn’t sure how to feel about the fact that they could only find one, and the fact that it was so disconcertingly short; there were videos of her heroics as Ladybug _everywhere_ on the Internet. Not that she went actively looking for them—having the moderator of the Ladyblog for a best friend just naturally brought such things to her attention.

“What did she say in the middle there? Something about ‘monsters’? My English is rusty…”

“She said ‘if you don’t want to see what a bigger monster like me will do to smaller monsters like you, I would run,’” Marinette translated. Nino shivered, his eyes widening.

“Holy shit.”

Marinette nodded, frowning at her computer screen.

“I’d run too, honestly.”

They sat in meditative silence for a time, before Nino spoke up again.

“And this is someone that might be helping the Butterfly for whatever reason?”

Marinette tilted her head with a frown.

“Maybe,” she settled on. Honestly, they were still no closer to this answer than they had been when Erika had first revealed the existence of Shade to Marinette. And considering the akumas wouldn’t stop coming anytime soon—armed with faux possessed items that tripped them up and threatened to turn an already difficult situation more deadly with every battle—this was something that needed to be confirmed or denied as soon as possible, so they could…well, Marinette didn’t know what they’d do about it yet, but she would worry about that rickety bridge when it came time to cross it.

“I don’t get it,” said Nino, drawing Marinette out of her own thoughts to focus on his frown. He waved a hand towards the computer screen and continued, “She saved that girl from those men that were chasing her. Why would she come to France and help the Butterfly dude with whatever vendetta he has against us? Her powers are creepy, sure, but she’s supposed to be a hero, right?”

Marinette’s own frown deepened…and then she glanced down at her computer table, where the kwamis were sitting.

“Tikki?”

Tikki glanced up from the muted conversation she was having with Wayzz over snacks, their voices too quiet for human ears.

“Marinette?”

“Have you ever met the kwami of the Snake Miraculous?”

Tikki frowned over her cookie.

“…I don’t think so,” she denied, also tilting her head to the side as she thought; Marinette was no longer sure of whether or not this was a gesture she had picked up from Tikki, or vice-versa. “While there have been many Ladybugs throughout history, many of them have never interacted with any Miraculous wielders so intimately, other than the Black Cat Miraculous wielder.”

“Right, the whole ‘fated partners’ thing,” Nino drawled, sending Marinette a side-long glance that she pretended not to see, her face growing rather warm. “How ‘bout you, Wayzz?”

Wayzz shook his head.

“The one who wields the Turtle Miraculous is destined to be the Guardian of just the seven Miraculous that are currently here in Paris. Though I know that there _are_ other Miraculous in the world, they are of little concern to the seven that I help guard.”

“Hmm,” Nino hummed, sitting back in his chair as he stared up at Marinette’s ceiling, hands folded behind his head. “That makes me wonder: do other Miraculous exist in sets like ours? Or all they all just randomly passed out like candy on Halloween?”

“Speaking of the Miraculous here in Paris,” Marinette spoke up, steering the conversation into a more relevant direction, “Have you given any thought to who our fourth Miraculous wielder should be?”

Nino suddenly sat up, blinking wide eyes before he glanced away from Marinette, rubbing the back of his head.

“Oh, uh…I didn’t, uh, know we were in such a hurry to do that…”

Marinette frowned at him. What was he suddenly acting all shifty for?

“Well, we’re not…” she said slowly, watching him carefully, “but since Chat gave his okay, I figured you’d start looking soon…”

“Oh…right…” Nino cleared his throat, still refusing to meet Marinette’s gaze as he turned around, grabbing the T.V. remote and switching it on. “Well, I’m, uh, still, uh, narrowing down some potential people, I guess…”

“Nino?”

“Yeah?”

“You already have someone in mind, don’t you?”

Nino cringed. Bullseye.

“Who is it?” Marinette asked, his reaction making her curious. Why was he looking so guilty over something Marinette had asked him to do? She had already made it clear that she trusted him to make this decision, didn’t she? So why the shiftiness, as if he had done (or was planning on doing) something he knew she wouldn’t like?

Before Nino could answer—or evade the question, if the look on his face was being read correctly—a familiar tune began to issue from Marinette’s television, signaling a breaking news report. She tore her gaze from Nino and focused on the T.V. screen, where Nadja Chamack was grimly reporting something from in front of some footage that looked like it came from downtown…

“Good afternoon, Paris. Today marks the fourth day that the group known as Akumatized Victims Anonymous—otherwise known as AVA—made themselves known to the public, and effectively declared war on the Anti-Akuma Taskforce. This bitter rivalry, while it seemed to appear overnight, has been raging nonstop, as citizens both for and against the akumatized victims have taken to the streets, brawls breaking out frequently and without warning. The perceived leader of AVA, identified as Timebreaker—”

“This is getting serious,” Marinette grumbled, glaring at the footage of citizens fighting each other with reckless abandon. “If we don’t do something about it, someone’s going to seriously get hurt.”

“It’s not like we haven’t been trying, ‘Nette,” Nino reminded her, though his expression matched hers. “They won’t listen.”

Marinette huffed, rubbing the bridge of her nose in irritation. It was indeed difficult to get AVA to listen to anything they said, when Team Miraculous showed up to dispel one of their rallies—and there were a _lot_ of them. Though Marinette had initially believed that AVA had only recently organized, they must have been planning to make their move out into the open for a long time, if the constant recruiting speeches and graffiti tags that kept appearing all over the city were any indication. And it seemed like their cause was only growing stronger: in just the four days that they had been publicly active, Marinette _swore_ that their group had swelled to twice its original size, made up of citizens either previously akumatized or of citizens who witnessed the suffering of said akumatized victims firsthand. It was madness, madness the police and even Team Miraculous was struggling to keep up with. Though Marinette highly disapproved of their activities, she would say this—AVA was certainly inspiring enough.

“I know,” she grumbled reluctantly, completely put out with the whole situation. “It doesn’t help that the police are losing their sway with them, either.”

“I guess they’re not afraid to be arrested since they know they’re the victims in this case.”

“That still doesn’t mean they should be doing this!”

“I know, ‘Nette,” Nino assured her, raising and lowering his hands in a ‘take it easy’ gesture. Before Marinette could retort, the news report intruded once again:

“Mayor Fantoche and Deputy Mayor Reine are entreating the heroes of Paris to meet with them as soon as possible, to see if a solution to this war can be reached through government means.”

Marinette huffed again, cursing to herself as she frowned at the footage of Mayor Fantoche making some sort of impassioned speech, Deputy Mayor Reine at his side, looking troubled.

“And that’s _another_ thing to add to our to-do list. Great.”

She turned to find Nino frowning as well, rubbing his stubbly chin again.

“What do the Mayor and Deputy Mayor think they can do about this? Don’t they realize that _we’ve_ been trying to do something about this?”

“And yet AVA remains stubborn,” Marinette confirmed grimly, falling onto the _chaise longue_ next to Nino. “Alix is doing her job a little _too_ well, if you ask me.”

Nino went quiet, still frowning into space as Marinette slouched against him in exhaustion. A second later, he spoke, slowly, as if an idea was just forming in his mind:

“…You know, we _do_ know a few of them personally…maybe we could get them all together and talk? Like, stage an intervention or something?”

Marinette’s brow furrowed as she pondered over this plan.

“I don’t know…they won’t listen to Ladybug and Emerald Shell…why would they listen to us?”

“Because LB and Shell are masked strangers, but Nino and ‘Nette are concerned friends?”

Hmm. Nino had a fair point—it was easier to disregard the words of strangers than it was the heartfelt words of concern from friends. AVA might be dedicated to their cause, sure, but they were also getting grievously injured in their fights with the AAT. Better that Team Miraculous should take such blows for them; they were the ones with magical armor, after all.

“And I’m pretty sure part of the reason they don’t listen to Shell and Ladybug is because they’re allies with Chat Noir,” Nino said grimly. “They haven’t exactly been subtle about how they feel about him.”

Marinette closed her eyes and forced herself to take a deep breath to keep the rage from surfacing. A few months ago, when they had still been enemies, she might not have batted an eyelash at the disrespect shown towards Chat Noir whenever they showed up to dispel an AVA rally—the jeers and boos and hisses whenever they saw him. Now, however, it was absolutely unacceptable. There were even a few graffiti portraits of something violent happening to him at the hands of a member of AVA all around the city, the art style easily recognizable to Marinette, which thoroughly irked her. Sure, a few months ago, when he was still being difficult, Marinette might not have protested the abuse AVA was showing towards him as much…but now that he was at her side again, now that she suspected what she suspected…

A hand squeezed her shoulder.

“‘Nette? You okay?”

No. But she couldn’t really get into it without bringing up the true reason she was so upset about AVA’s treatment of Chat Noir, treatment he was taking stoically enough, though Ladybug noticed the way his fists tightened, the way his back stiffened, the way his jaw locked when he thought no one was looking…

“I’m fine,” she replied belatedly to Nino after another tense moment. She sat up with a sigh, patting Nino’s hand before he dropped his arm from her. “Just thinking about this whole mess, and how it’s the last thing I need right now.”

“Ah.” Nino glanced over, to where her spring line hung around the sewing studio portion of her room. “The contest ends Wednesday, right?”

“Yeah,” Marinette sighed, rubbing the side of her temple. “It’s finally ending, thank god.”

“At least you’re finished…” Nino trailed off, and Marinette caught the glance he shot to her sewing dummy, where red fabric was pinned to it, half-formed. “…You _are_ done, aren’t you?”

“Yes…” Marinette let her sentence hang as well, frowning at her sewing dummy, and the half-formed idea that continued to haunt her even now. “At least, I think so.”

“You _think_ so?”

“I don’t know,” Marinette huffed with a roll of her eyes, still scowling at the sewing dummy, as if this whole situation was its fault, somehow. “I mean, I’m happy with my design for the Ladybug outfit—it’s simple and casual, just like all the other outfits…but it still doesn’t…I don’t know, _feel_ right.”

She knew that probably made no sense, but when she looked back at Nino, it was to find him nodding thoughtfully.

“I get it,” he assured her, smiling at the surprise in her expression, no doubt. “Same with my music—it’s more than just sound to me. It’s emotion, too. And if it doesn’t feel right, then it doesn’t feel right.” His brow creased again, eyes crinkling in worry. “…But you’re not planning on making a whole _new_ outfit, are you? Do you even have time?”

Marinette bit her lip. Time, no, not really. It was Monday afternoon—if she wanted to finish a whole new outfit, it would mean no sleep at all tonight, or possibly even Tuesday night. Any sane person would realize that she just did not have the time to create a whole new outfit for her spring line. She knew that.

…And yet…

As she looked at the sewing dummy, the same teasing image from her subconscious surfaced again…the image of a red cheongsam…and a parasol, one not quite as nondescript as the plain, black umbrella that a boy with a shy smile had offered her a long time ago…but with that image in mind—

“ _She’s my other gun, should I go to war._

_Holdin’ me down, that’s what she’s there for._

_She’s my other gun~_ ”

Marinette turned, smiling as Nino’s expression lit up when he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“All right, I’ve hogged you enough for one day,” she decided, shooing him off the _chaise_ _longue_ with a wave of her hands. “Go spend time with your fiancée.”

“Thanks, ‘Nette. I’ll see you later. C’mon, Wayzz!”

Nino answered his phone as he descended Marinette’s stairs, the green kwami zooming after him after he thanked Marinette for her hospitality. Marinette followed them to the door, locking up after they left. She marshaled her thoughts into order as she ascended the stairs to her bedroom/studio once again, frowning to herself.

Their search hadn’t provided anything useful—just a small scope of the entity called Shade’s powers. They still had no idea who she was, what her motives were in helping the Butterfly, or even how powerful she was. Shade remained shrouded in mystery, and Marinette was discouraged by that. How else were they supposed to discover anything about her?

And then there was that whole thing with the Anti-Akuma Taskforce vs. Akumatized Victims Anonymous, a separate headache that was rapidly spiraling out of control. Marinette happened to agree with Nino—she wasn’t sure what the mayor and deputy mayor expected to accomplish by calling on the heroes to have a conference with them. But, as the heroes of Paris, they couldn’t just ignore the summons, either. That would have to be addressed as well, and soon.

And the cherry on top of Marinette’s disaster of a schedule?

The fashion competition on Wednesday.

_Two. Days. Away._

As much as she was relieved that it was all drawing to a close, it also felt like her stomach had twisted itself into iron knots, knots that refused to come undone until Wednesday, when the future of her fashion career was either boosted to the stars…or sent right back to the back of the line again.

Marinette made herself take a deep breath, turning to stare at her creations. She was proud of them, each and every single one of them, for she had carefully thought out every design choice, every pattern, hell, even every stitch. There was nothing she would change about any of them…except…

She frowned, reaching up to graze her fingertips against the gauze overlaying the Ladybug dress, which was a bit more summery than spring-like, she supposed. It hung beside the Chat Noir outfit, a direct contrast to the edgy look of it with its free-flowing design. It was beautiful, sure, and it was casual, just as she meant for it to be. But still…

Marinette turned back to her sewing dummy, the image of a red cheongsam refusing to leave her. It would be nice to put a bit of her Chinese culture into at least _one_ of her designs, even if it wasn’t exactly an outfit that screamed ‘casual wear’. And she had been trying to be good about not showing favoritism towards any of the outfits, trying to make it clear that she had no special preference towards the Ladybug outfit—

As she glanced at the Chat Noir-inspired outfit once again, Marinette bit her lip. It was all his fault, a childish part of her wanted to claim. Ever since Valentine’s Day, her already confusing feelings for him had increased two-fold, _especially_ because she still couldn’t decide what to do if who she thought was under that mask of his really _was_ under it. She had already caught herself, once or twice, trying to imagine the Chat Noir-inspired outfit on Adrien, wondering how he’d look in it, with his hair mussed, a wild grin on his face…and she could see it. Good _lord,_ she could see it, he would look so good in it—

But even as she tried to shake off such thoughts…she had realized in the process that the Ladybug summer dress wasn’t really _her._ It didn’t scream “Ladybug” to her, even with the spots all over it, and the more she looked at it, the more she realized she was _dissatisfied_ with it. Where she had created an outfit that suited Chat Noir perfectly…this dress she had created seemed more like a placeholder, rather than anything she could see Ladybug— _herself_ —wearing.

This realization had her agonizing, chewing off her nails as she resisted the urge to slash the dress to scraps with her scissors, wondering what she should do. After all, she was officially finished: all she had to do now was wait until Wednesday, and she was already plenty stressed about _that_. If she actually dared to _change_ a design, a mere _two days_ before the competition—if she dared to take such a big risk—

Her phone chimed, and Marinette turned away from her designs with a relieved sigh; her head was beginning to pound.

It was a reminder from her alarm clock—she had set it the night before, reminding herself that she needed to go grocery shopping today.

Marinette sighed. Grocery shopping…such a mundane task that would take her at least an hour to complete, forcing her to focus on simple things, like what kind of fruits and vegetables she needed to buy, and whether or not a trip to the butcher was needed. Simple, hardly important little decisions she would have to make for a whole hour.

Thank _god._

“Let’s go shop for groceries, Tikki,” she beckoned the kwami, gathering her winter things and putting them on. “I think your cookie supply is running a bit low.”

“Oh no!” Tikki cried, zooming into Marinette’s muffler once it was in place around her neck. “We’ll have to change that!”

Marinette giggled. It would be sweet, sweet relief to focus on the little things, if only for just a little while.

 

* * *

 

“Oh! Mari-doll!”

Marinette startled, nearly dropping the cup of yogurt she was inspecting. She hadn’t been expecting to hear that voice here of all places…but then again, she supposed fashion professors had to eat, too.

“Hi, Desiree,” Marinette greeted, smiling as said beloved fashion professor approached, looking stunning as always, even in a sweater and jeans. “Long time no see.”

“Oh, it’s been _hours,_ ” Desiree whined exaggeratedly, an attractive pout crossing her face. She set down her _chariot_ and stepped forward, embracing Marinette. “I’ve missed you, sweetheart.”

Marinette giggled, blushing a little as she patted Desiree’s back in return.

“Nice to see you, too. Is this one of those dreaded 'grocery days' you complain about so much?"

“I’m afraid so,” Desiree said with a sigh as she released Marinette, picking up her _chariot_  again. “At first I was worried when these trips started becoming more and more frequent—well, more frequent than they had already become, since I moved to France. I was starting to think I’d been eating too much lately.” Desiree’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “But then I remembered that I make Mandy dinner almost every night, so that explained it.”

Marinette laughed, falling into step beside Desiree as they rounded the last dairy aisle and headed into the next one over.

“You and Amanda are so cute together,” she commented, and then paused. Oh, was that an inappropriate comment to make about her fashion professor’s love life? Granted, they weren’t on campus right now, but…

When Desiree laughed, Marinette breathed a sigh of relief. She was in the clear.

“I do adore her, it’s true,” Desiree allowed, grinning a grin that turned sly within seconds. “But I think our title of ‘cutest couple ever’ is currently being challenged, isn’t it, Mari-doll?”

Marinette’s face caught fire. Oh no. Was it _that_ obvious? Or was Desiree just assuming…?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Marinette tried to say calmly and demurely…but the high-pitched squeaks that left her might as well have been a confession. Desiree threw her head back and laughed.

“Oh come on, Marinette! Don’t you think I’ve noticed your mood lately? You’ve been floating on air ever since Valentine’s Day, which could only mean _one_ thing: someone has a loooverrr~”

The sing-song lilt in Desiree’s voice did nothing to alleviate Marinette’s embarrassment, and so she coped by pretending to be interested in a box of pasta next to them.

Desiree wasn’t letting up, though.

“Sooo, I bet I can guess who it is, too,” she teased, nudging Marinette playfully and giving her a wink. “A certain blonde ex-model we both know gets this dreamy look in his eye whenever we discuss a certain talented, raven-haired seamstress we both know—”

“All right, all right!” Marinette gave up, laughing at the exaggerated winking Desiree threw at her. “Yes, okay? I’m seeing Adrien. But don’t worry—we’re not letting it affect our professional lives.”

“I wouldn’t expect that of you, Mari-doll,” Desiree said sagely, with a pat to Marinette’s shoulder and a smile. “You’re a good girl.” She paused, suddenly frowning, and Marinette was brought to a stop next to her, concerned by the furrow of her friend’s brow.

“What is it?”

“Oh…it’s nothing, really,” Desiree assured her, tilting her head to the side as she inspected Marinette, that frown still in place. After a moment, she gave Marinette’s shoulder a squeeze. “You know I love you, right?”

Marinette blushed.

“You might’ve mentioned something to that effect before,” she answered, her tone wry. Desiree grinned swiftly at that.

“Ahaha, I know, I’m not exactly reserved with my affection,” she teased with another wink before her expression faded back to solemn. “But I do mean that, Marinette—I care about you, very much. And…well…”

“What?” Marinette prompted, her brow beginning to furrow to match Desiree’s. An elderly lady standing behind Desiree cleared her throat; they were sort of blocking the aisle, and she clearly wanted to get through. Desiree stepped out of the way with murmured apologies, moving closer to Marinette, and the lady went on her way with inaudible grumbles about “kids these days”. Desiree raised her eyebrows at Marinette, looking pleased.

“Hear that? I’m a ‘kid’ again.”

Marinette laughed.

“You’ve always been a young spirit, Desiree…but you were saying?”

“Oh, right,” Desiree recalled, a frown marring her pretty features once again. “Well…I just wanted to ask…I mean, I’m sure I know the answer to this question, but still…Marinette…you _do_ know what you’re doing, don’t you?”

Marinette blinked. This…was not a question she was expecting from Desiree. And the fact that she was concerned enough to ask did not bode well for Marinette.

“Um…what do you mean?” She asked, hoping clarification on the issue would dissolve the knot that had suddenly taken residence in the pit of her stomach…

Desiree pursed her lips, looking troubled.

“Well…I know he’s been, um… _better_ , lately…but for a while, when he came back to Paris…wasn’t Adrien just a _little_ , er…well, cold?”

Ah. _Those_ days. Marinette did not miss those days at all.

“Yes,” she admitted readily with a nod, “but he’s changed, Desiree.”

“…Has he?” Desiree asked, the lightest of inflections in her tone. “Are you…quite sure, Marinette? Does he…share himself with you? His _entire_ self?”

…Okay, that tone wasn’t helping that knot in the pit of Marinette’s stomach.

“You’re talking like you know something I don’t,” Marinette said, raising a brow at Desiree, who pursed her lips once again, as if there was a secret she was aching to spill, but something was holding her back. Although Marinette sincerely doubted that Desiree knew something that she didn’t about Adrien…again, the fact that she was bothering to ask, with her expression twisted, as if she had something terrible to share…

“… _Do_ you know something I don’t?” Marinette prompted, her heart rate beginning to increase the longer Desiree continued to look at her like that, her insides squirming uncomfortably, her mind suddenly inventing wild possibilities—had Desiree seen Adrien doing something problematic? Was he seeing other women behind her back? Was he still getting into bar fights and just paying off the media to not report it? Was he secretly following in his father’s villain footsteps? Oh god, could Marinette have been wrong all along? Was Adrien just playing her?

Or worse: was he not who she suspected he was after all…?

Desiree’s red lips finally parted, and Marinette held her breath, waiting for the bad news that would shatter her world as she knew it—

Something suddenly inserted itself between the two women—an arm, reaching for a box of noodles on the shelf next to them. Marinette and Desiree jumped apart, and Marinette startled when she discovered that the rude arm belonged to—

“You!” She exclaimed, glaring openly at Felix. And he, as always, raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her.

“Me,” he replied, withdrawing his arm and turning his back to Marinette, so that he faced Desiree. “Do you mind? I want to make spaghetti tonight, but you’re blocking the pasta aisle.”

Marinette couldn’t see Desiree’s expression—stupid Felix was in the way—but what she could see of her made a weird jerking movement, as if she couldn’t stand to be near Felix. (Marinette sympathized.) There was silence for a moment, and then Desiree spoke.

“Oh…yes. Of course. I apologize,” she said, her tone smooth and formal. “Well…I should be going. Marinette, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Wait, Desiree!” Marinette protested, but when she tried to go around Felix, he stepped in her way _again._ Irritated, Marinette stomped her foot to relieve some of the tension roiling within her.

“What the hell’s your _problem?!_ ” She demanded of Felix when he finally turned to face her, madder at him than she had ever been. “We were in the middle of an important conversation, and then you interrupted!!”

Felix looked like he didn’t give a single fuck about whatever conversation Marinette and Desiree might or might not have been having. He took a step forward, and the unexpected move made Marinette take a step back, flinching. She cursed herself inwardly for the display of fear as Felix paused, merely staring at her, still holding that box of uncooked spaghetti noodles. Marinette glared at him, annoyed at his presence. Was he actually, truly stalking her? Why? Was he still trying to get her to come back to _Tres Bien_ boutique? Or perhaps…had he somehow learned that she was dating Adrien now?

No, that was impossible—he and Adrien didn’t speak, so how could he know? But then, he knew they were close: she had been Adrien’s date to the Sainte de-Coquille Winter Ball, and he had seen her with Adrien when Erika had dragged him over to say hello a few weeks ago. He already knew that she and his cousin were close, no matter what their relationship was, so it couldn’t be the reason he was still following her around. And he and Adrien barely spoke anyway, so something like Marinette being close to his cousin shouldn’t bother him…but then what was it? What could she have possibly done to deserve all this harassment?

Before she could tell him where he could stick his spaghetti noodles, Felix beat her to the punch and spoke first:

“You shouldn’t trust that woman.”

Marinette stared at him. He kept her gaze, expression smooth, eyes serious.

He was completely serious.

What the fuck?

“…Okay, I don’t know what kind of game you’re trying to play here, but I don’t have the time,” Marinette told him with a huff and a shake of her head. She tried to step around him once again, but yet again, he side-stepped and blocked her. Marinette stared at him, incensed. Seriously, what the _hell_ was his fucking problem?!

“Marinette,” he addressed her curtly, “in the time that you’ve known me…when have I _ever_ played games with you?”

That drew Marinette up short. It was true—Felix had little to no sense of humor at all. He was usually all-business, and it was rare to even see him crack a smile. He wasn’t the type to play games…unless his strange behavior at her parents’ bakery the last time they spoke one-on-one counted…

…But then, again, what was it?

What could his purpose possibly be in telling her that she shouldn’t trust her favorite fashion professor, someone she had known for years?

What in the world would Felix have to gain for saying something like that?

Felix seemed to tire of her gawking at him incredulously; he turned back to the shelf and replaced the box of spaghetti noodles upon it. Marinette blinked at last, frowning at him.

“I thought you were making spaghetti?” She asked, distracted by this minor detail, no matter how insignificant it was. Felix paused and quirked his brow at Marinette once again.

“…Marinette, I grew up in _Italy,_ ” he reminded her, his tone drier than any desert in existence. “Don’t you think I’ve had enough of the stuff by now?”

Marinette didn’t mean to do it, she really didn’t. But Felix’s tone was just so flat that she couldn’t help it—a snort escaped her. She hastily slapped a hand over her mouth, horrified at herself. Felix was _not funny._ She should _not_ find him funny! He was a jerk! A creepy jerk that was probably stalking her! Nothing about this situation, not even his dry comment about too much spaghetti, was funny.

But much to her humiliation, Felix hadn’t missed her snort of amusement. She could have sworn she saw his lips twitch briefly, almost as if he wanted to smile…

But he didn’t. And honestly, if he had, Marinette was convinced that his face would break in the process.

Fixing the lapel of his jacket, Felix swept by Marinette, apparently done pestering her for the day. Well, almost.

“Remember what I said,” he muttered as he passed. His reminder of his ridiculous warning brought Marinette’s irritation back full force; she had to struggle a moment with her anger before she could whirl around to hurl a retort at him—

But he was already gone. Damn him and his long legs.

Huffing, Marinette picked her _chariot_  back up and stomped off, determined to get the rest of her shopping done as soon as possible, despite her mood being ruined for the day. Stupid, meddling Felix…and Desiree had been on the verge of telling her something important, too…or, at least, it _seemed_ vital…

Marinette frowned to herself, slowing her strut through the supermarket.

…Huh. Now that she was away from Desiree…her assertion that she and her fashion professor had been interrupted at a crucial moment was beginning to fade.

As a matter of fact, now that she was thinking about it on her own, it seemed very far-fetched for Desiree to know something about Adrien that Marinette didn’t. And this wasn’t arrogance on Marinette’s part—she knew there were things she didn’t know about Adrien, and probably never would. Erika was proof of that. But even so, Marinette felt it was safe to say that she knew Adrien a hell of a lot better than Desiree did, even if the two of them kept in regular contact with each other, thanks to Desiree’s competition.

‘ _But Desiree wouldn’t say anything unless she had an actual reason to be worried,_ ’ Marinette reasoned, resuming her pace. Desiree was a rather carefree person in her spare time, Marinette had learned, never one to worry about problems that could be put off until tomorrow (fashion project deadlines excluded). So if she said something was wrong, it usually meant that something was wrong…

 _“Does he…share himself with you? His_ entire _self?”_

Marinette froze so abruptly that a mother and her five children had to swerve around her to avoid running her over, the mother sending her a dirty look as she went. Marinette barely noticed; she was too busy having a revelation that was more disturbing than any look a mother of five could ever throw at her:

Was it somehow possible that Marinette hadn’t been the only one to discover Adrien’s catty little secret…?

‘ _That’s ridiculous_ ,’ Marinette reasoned fiercely, huffing at herself. She didn’t even know if her suspicions were _correct,_ for god’s sake. And besides, even if she was right (‘ _Whoa, no time to obsess over that for the billionth time, focus._ ’), the fact that it had taken her this long to figure it out surely meant no one _else_ knew any better…right?

“Excuse me,” said a nasally voice behind Marinette, “but you’re blocking the way to the cheese.”

Marinette sighed and stepped out of the way, urging herself to move forward and finish her shopping already. She had no time to worry about this—if what Desiree knew held any weight, than Marinette would just have to talk to her at a later time. Right now, she had groceries to buy, and when she got home…

Adjusting her _chariot_  to hang from the crook of her elbow, Marinette slipped a hand into her pocket to fish out her phone. A couple taps and swipes of her screen later, her phone was ringing, and a familiar voice answered:

“ _Boulangerie Patisserie_ , how can we brighten your day today?”

“Mama, it’s me.”

“Oh, Marinette, hi!” There was a muttered word from her mother, followed by an answering rumble she recognized as her father’s voice. “Your father says hello and that he misses you. We both do. When are you and Adrien stopping by for dinner again?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. They acted like they never saw her. Did she not work at the bakery in the afternoons? Hmm, maybe it was just that they never wanted to see just her anymore—it was either her and Adrien together, or not at all. Well, that wasn’t true, but still, sometimes it felt like it.

“Soon, Mama. But listen, are you busy today? I’m out right now, but I want to stop by. There’s...something I want to do. But I can’t do it without your help.”

Sabine paused. Marinette wondered if she had surprised her mother; she had always been fairly self-sufficient, and even more so when she moved out. Admittedly, it was rare to hear her ask for help, but…

“I will never be too busy for you, Marinette,” Sabine promised, and Marinette let out a sigh of relief. She was truly blessed to have such caring parents. “Feel free to drop by. What is it you need help with?”

“Well…you know those really pretty cheongsams you wear…?”

Yes, she had decided: she was going to make this new dress. And yes, it was madness to do this to herself just two days before the competition, she knew. Utter madness.

But she was going to do it anyway.

Marinette knew, better than anyone, that Ladybug deserved the best design Marinette could possibly give her.

 

* * *

 

Wednesday, February twenty-second. The deadline for Desiree’s spring fashion line competition for her graduating class.

The day had finally arrived.

And Adrien could not be more relieved.

“You look happy,” Desiree teased with a smirk as Adrien hovered beside her, watching her students set up their designs in one of IFA’s studios. “Were those constant meetings with my students putting you out?”

“Not at all,” Adrien replied politely, while inwardly reflecting about how this was one task he could shove permanently off his bulging work plate now. Now all he had to worry about was making sure Agreste Fashion was ready for their workload to increase by about two-hundred percent… “It’s just nice to see all the hard work your students have put in come together.”

“…Ah. Meaning that you’re pleased your girlfriend will stop tearing her hair out now?” Desiree concluded with a sly look. Adrien hastily glanced away from where Marinette was setting up, clearing his throat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

Adrien let out a breath. Was he really being that obvious? He had been doing his best not to openly stare at his girlfriend—heh heh, his _girlfriend_ —but it was difficult since she automatically claimed his attention whenever they were in the same room together…especially because of more recent developments…

‘ _Stop it,_ ’ Adrien chastised himself with a mental pinch. He had been catching himself comparing Marinette to Ladybug far too often lately, and it needed to stop. _Marinette_ was his girlfriend, and that was that. Any similarities she shared with Ladybug—coincidental or… _otherwise_ —were not important until further notice.

Adrien checked his watch. Five minutes to half-past eight. It was almost time for the judging to begin…but…

“We’re missing someone,” he noted, turning his attention back to Desiree…who had already been watching him, it appeared. That surprised Adrien a bit, but he let it pass. “Where’s your friend from AMI?”

“Hmm…” Desiree hummed, pulling out her cell phone and tapping at the screen, her brow furrowed in concentration. “He should’ve been here by now—”

“Are you looking for me?”

Adrien turned to find a tall man suddenly standing just behind him and Desiree, clad in a gray designer suit that complimented his dark skin. His hair was shaved close to his head with an undercut, and his goatee was trimmed and perfect. He lifted a travel cup and sipped from it, dark eyes looking expectantly in between Desiree and Adrien. Adrien smiled politely, but from the corner of his eye, he noticed Desiree frown.

“You’re not Alexandre Mattiussi,” she said, disappointment evident in her tone. The man raised a single eyebrow as he sipped from his travel cup.

“Damn, guess my cover’s blown,” he quipped, and Adrien raised his eyebrows as well, suppressing amusement. “Alex was a little too busy running his company to come, so he sent me instead.”

“And you are…?”

“Noah Dumont,” the man introduced himself, extending a hand. As Adrien shook it, Noah added, “I’m a business associate of Alex’s, so I’m representing his interests today.”

“I see,” Desiree replied, still looking less than happy. Adrien didn’t know what for—they had both agreed to bring an impartial judge on board for reasons both stated and unsaid, but mutually understood. It didn’t matter who it was specifically, so long as they knew fashion and could form their own opinions, right? Noah raised his eyebrow again, and his lips pursed, as if he was about to ask if there was a problem, but Desiree abruptly turned her back on him, calling through the room in a booming voice.

“All right, my brilliant young minds: it’s show time! You know the rules, so let’s get started!”

The nervous chattered died down, and the students hurriedly assembled themselves next to their respective creations, many faces tense, drawn, and tired. One student looked like he might be violently ill at any moment…and Adrien supposed that explained the empty trash can off to the side, on standby. But Desiree proceeded immediately, her heels clicking against the floor. Adrien waved Noah forward after her with a smile, and Noah nodded in return.

And thus, the competition began: Desiree introduced her students when it was their turn to be judged, and they explained their spring line and the ideas that inspired them. Adrien, having met with these students several times before today, had gotten to know them and their individual styles a little bit better, and he was personally impressed with how far each of them had come.

Noah, however, was a lot harder to please.

“A suit? This is a ‘suit’ by you? Please—just add a tacky polyester cape and it’s a terrible Halloween costume for Count Dracula.”

“This stitching is all wrong—one cycle through your washing machine, and the whole thing would fall apart. What, were you sewing in the dark?”

“Are you serious? You’re really going to make me say this? Fine, I’ll say it: ‘Florals? In spring? _Groundbreaking._ ’ Honestly, you didn’t even try, did you?”

‘ _Damn. He’s tough,_ ’ Adrien thought, grimacing at the fourth student Noah had reduced to tears, all with a few short, clipped sentences in between sips of coffee…or perhaps the liquid in the travel cup was actually the tears of fashion hopefuls whose dreams he’d shattered previously. The uncomfortable thing, though, was that his criticisms, however sharp-sounding, held weight. So, it wasn’t as if he could just be brushed off as an asshole…though the students muttering mutinously behind his back probably disagreed.

But this was making Adrien more and more nervous the closer they got to Marinette, who was holding herself stoically enough, despite how pale her face was. Though he knew he was biased in more ways than one, he still thought her spring line was brilliant, and Desiree made it no secret that she believed in Marinette’s talent as a seamstress. Whether she liked it or not, she already had two of the judges on her side. But this was not a majority vote—though it would be with Adrien’s company that the chosen designer would display their spring line during Paris’ Fashion Week, it was up to all three of them to make the decision on who that designer should be. So, even if Adrien and Desiree were already sold on Marinette’s spring line, if Noah did not agree…

A few biting words, a couple meltdowns, and a hastily avoided case of projectile vomit later, it was time. Desiree, with her lips pinched in displeasure, walked stiffly to Marinette; Adrien suspected she had wanted to save the best for last, but considering how the morning was going, she probably wanted to get things over with as quickly as possible now. Marinette stood in front of her spring line, her six outfits lined up in a V-shape, with the Ladybug and Chat Noir outfits situated a bit ahead of the other four outfits. She was dressed sensibly, in a pink silk blouse and a black pencil skirt, her hair swept up into its work bun. Adrien smiled as they approached, trying not to make his adoration too obvious…but judging from Marinette’s slight flush as they made eye contact, he hadn’t quite succeeded. Oh well.

“ _Mon._ Dumont, I present to you, _Mme._ Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She’s one of my _best_ students,” Desiree stressed, her tone suggesting she was just _daring_ Noah to say anything snide about Marinette. Adrien sympathized, but he kept his poker face firmly in place, for no good would come of making his preferences obvious.

Marinette smiled, the confident move lighting up her whole face. Adrien felt his heart thud, and he had to actively remind himself that it was _not_ a good idea to kiss his girlfriend silly in front of everyone right now.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she greeted respectably, extending her hand. Noah eyed it for one moment before he ignored it, taking another sip from his travel cup.

“No one likes a kiss up, sweetheart,” he said, and Adrien felt a distinct stab of annoyance. Since when was being polite considered ‘kissing up’? And what did he _mean_ , ‘sweetheart’?! Was he talking down to Marinette just because she was a woman?  _Rude._ “Why don’t you just show me what you’ve got here?”

Adrien saw a spark of something light in Marinette’s eyes: challenge.

He had to stifle a grin. Noah had done it now.

“Certainly,” Marinette replied calmly, her chin lifted ever so slightly as she turned, moving to the left. “If you’ll walk this way, I’d like to start on this side first.”

Noah, Desiree and Adrien followed her, though Adrien had to do a double-take as he went: the Ladybug outfit, standing off to the left with the Chat Noir outfit situated on its right, was different than the one he had approved as the final product—radically different. Just what had inspired such a sudden and drastic change at the last minute…?

“Adrien? Join us, please,” Desiree called to him. With a jolt, Adrien realized he had been left behind, and he hurried forward with murmured apologies as he joined everyone else in front of the first outfit Marinette wanted to introduce: [the Fox outfit.](http://lunararcher.tumblr.com/image/153168965473)

“As you can see, I took a large part of my inspiration from the superheroes of Paris,” Marinette began, waving a hand towards the rest of her line briefly. “Of course, some of the pieces featured here aren’t actually superheroes that exist, but they are what I imagine they might be if they did. The other half of this line was inspired by the _Carnivale di Venezia,_ the Carnival of Venice, in which elaborate costumes and masks are featured. I adapted that idea to fit the heroes of Paris, who already wear masks, and tweaked it from difficult and cumbersome to wear costumes to casual clothes anyone would wear, and from masks that merely hide the civilian identities of our heroes—” Adrien noticed when Marinette’s gaze flickered to him and away, so quick he might have missed it if he wasn’t already watching her, “—to masks that _celebrate_ the superheroes themselves. And I’d like to start here with this one: the Fox outfit.”

Immediately, Noah was on the offensive:

“A jumpsuit?”

Marinette raised a dark eyebrow at him.

“Something wrong?”

Noah gave a shrug, eyeing the jumpsuit up and down with his critical gaze.

“Seems unlikely that any woman in Paris would actually be caught dead in a jumpsuit,” he said. Adrien admired the way Marinette smiled here…especially because he knew those teeth could turn sharp in an instant when it came to her craft.

“Well, that’s good, because this is actually a jumpsuit for men,” she said, gesturing towards the mannequin. “You’ll notice it’s a little broader in the shoulders and back if you take the time to look.”

Adrien watched as Noah blinked and indeed took a closer look. He frowned.

“I thought this was a line inspired by the superheroes of Paris?”

“It is.”

“Then why is this a jumpsuit for men? Shouldn’t it be for women, since Volpina was a woman? I know her superhero career was very brief, but—”

“Volpina wasn’t a hero, she was an akumatized victim,” Marinette corrected with a note of steel in her voice. Adrien stared at her, and she seemed to notice, for she cleared her throat and fixed her expression into one that was more aloof…but Adrien still saw the fire raging in her gaze, the fire of an injustice that still burned to this day… “But even so…she was based on an actual hero. And so I decided to create a new outfit in honor of the idea of _that_ hero.”

“Walk us through the creation process please, Marinette,” Desiree requested, as if she sensed things were about to get off track.

“Of course.” Clearing her throat again, Marinette turned towards her creation. “The jumpsuit itself is made from white cotton broadcloth, dyed a red ombre vertically here and here,” she gestured with her hands to the rust red color running down the jumpsuit, which started out light in the front and turned darker as she turned the mannequin so they could view the back, gesturing next to the fox design on the back.

“The fox design is a reversed ombre to make it stand out against its background,” she said, a fingertip not quite touching the fox design as she traced it back around to the front, where it blended into a large leather belt, the end of it tucked around and hanging free on the left side, ending in a white tip, like a fox’s tail.

“My signature is here in the collar to keep it out of the way of the design, but it’s still present. And as you can see, fur lines the stand collar, the arm holes, and the boots of the outfit.”

“Why just those places?” Noah deigned to ask, and Marinette gave an easy shrug.

“Because it’s a spring outfit meant for casual wear. Any more fur and anyone who wore it in spring would probably die of heat stroke,” She pointed out. Noah said nothing else, and merely sipped at his apparently bottomless travel cup. Marinette paused, as if she expected him to raise further objections, but when he did not, she moved on.

“There are pintucks stitched into the outfit, starting here, under the ribs, and going all the way down to the pants, which are shaped like jodhpurs, so that they’re looser at the hip, but are snug around the calves.”

“Right, I forgot about those child-bearing hips men have, which require that kind of space,” Noah said, his tone so casual that it was infuriating. Adrien closed his eyes, trying desperately to remember what came after six so he could count to ten through his anger…

He heard Marinette snort, and opened his eyes to see her looking… _amused._

“ _Mon._ Dumont,” she began sweetly, moving around her mannequin to pinch the outfit in the back, so that the waist suddenly looked snugger. “Would you _really_ want to wear a jumpsuit that leaves _little_ to the imagination about your pelvic area?”

“Pfft!” Adrien slapped a hand over his mouth and hastily turned, excusing himself through muffled laughter. He caught Desiree’s eye, and she openly grinned at him. Their girl was something else.

Noah appeared to have nothing to add to that—he merely sipped at his travel cup, his eyes tight. And so Marinette went on.

“Like any sensible outfit should have, there are pockets, and it’s an easy jumpsuit to get in and out of, thanks to the buttons here under the V neck. Underneath, there’s a white, form-fitting t-shirt, but of course, a red t-shirt would work as well, as long as it’s the same color as the rest of the jumpsuit…but then again, too much red might overpower the outfit, so…it would be a judgment call of whoever’s wearing it, I suppose,” Marinette hastily finished, seeming to realize she was rambling. She cleared her throat, and Adrien grinned at the blush filling her face. She was so cute.

“Ahem…so, the mask!”

“Oh, yes, the mask!” Desiree enthused as Marinette reached up and carefully removed the mask from the mannequin’s head. “It came out so well!”

“Thanks,” Marinette replied with a smile. “I went through a lot of paint when it came to the masks, but I think they were worth it. And as you can see, the mask is designed to be fox-like.” She gestured to the broad brush strokes of black that bisected the mask, like eyebrows, down to the black nose, which ended in a dramatic point under the nose of the wearer, at the points of the mask that appeared like ruffled fur, white around the eye holes of the mask and rust red at the top and down a slim column to the nose, above the black strokes of the mask, tall red ears situated at the top. Marinette turned the mask around so they could see the mesh within the mask.

“I added this to a lot of the masks just because they have points that would poke and prod otherwise,” she explained, grimacing a little. “I don’t see any reason to possibly damage a model’s face just for the sake of creativity…do you, _Mon._ Dumont?”

Noah blinked, as if he was surprised to have his opinion solicited. He went to sip from his travel cup again, only to rattle it, the tiny sound of sloshing tell-tale: his drink was not so bottomless after all. Adrien didn’t know why he found that so satisfying. It just was.

“…Seems reasonable,” Noah replied after a moment, finally lowering his empty travel cup. That might’ve been the closest thing to a compliment Adrien had heard him utter all morning.

“Well! Where to next, Marinette?” Desiree inquired, and Marinette grinned, all poise with just a pinch of sass.

“The Bee outfit on the other end. If you’ll follow me?”

Adrien loved watching Marinette talk about her work: there was something undeniably… _powerful_ about her when she was asked to explain her design choices. She was firmly rooted in confidence and completely in love with her craft, her _calling_. And Adrien couldn’t be more smitten with her if he tried.

The [Bee outfit](http://lunararcher.tumblr.com/image/153168948640) was lovely: a maxi-length sundress, made from sunshine, Adrien believed…though Marinette said it was actually a light cotton gauze fabric. But it looked like sunshine to Adrien: the dress was a blend of pale yellows and warm golds, with an empire waist, spaghetti straps and a crossover front, all trimmed with black cotton bias tape; the style of the dress suggested that any model that was lucky enough to wear it would give off the appearance of throwing around sun rays wherever she walked. There was an invisible zipper in the back of the dress to help put it on and take it off, and there was a bee-shaped pin nestled just under the left side of the bust, with long tails of black bias tape trailing from the bottom of the pin to the hem of the dress, and the fabric of the dress was gathered up to a point under the bee, hundreds of small rosettes made of fuzzy yellow gauze radiating out from said point and creeping their way up onto the bodice. Just under the rosettes under the center of the bust of the dress, Adrien could spot Marinette’s signature, tucked away someplace safe, barely noticeable, unless one was looking for it. Adrien grinned as Marinette explained her choices for the shoes: sky-high yellow platform sandals with narrow black stiletto heels, which she modified herself to emulate a bee’s stinger. This outfit was very glamorous, with the topaz drop pendant on a gold chain around the mannequin’s neck and gold bangles on the wrists, one of them being wide and faceted in hexagonal shapes to match the mask. This was possibly Adrien’s favorite part of the bee outfit—Marinette had confessed to struggling with the idea for this mask for a while, because creating a mask that resembled the eyes of a bee freaked her out. And so she had improvised: using a volunteer’s face as a model, Marinette had created an asymmetrical mask that was longer on the left side and textured with hexagonal shapes, the edges carefully cut and styled to give the mask the appearance of a honeycomb. The really amazing part was the topaz-colored beads she had added to dangle from the mask, as if they were drops of honey dripping from the mask itself. As she pointed this out, Adrien saw Noah’s eyebrows raise, but it seemed like he was unable to say anything if it was nothing negative—the exact opposite of the Golden Rule Adrien was taught from a young age. A shame.

Next was the [Turtle outfit](http://lunararcher.tumblr.com/image/153168929155), and Adrien took special interest in this one, amusing himself with thoughts of what Emerald Shell, whoever he was, would say if he knew a seamstress out there somewhere thought him cool enough to base a whole outfit on him. The olive green sleeveless hoodie was made from sweatshirt fleece, soft and fuzzy on the inside, but a smooth knit on the outside. Marinette carefully pulled back the skunk hood from the mannequin’s head so they could better see the parallel stitching that ran from the front of the hood all the way down to the back. There was a zipper in front with a standard hoodie pocket, but that was where the hoodie stopped being ordinary and became extraordinary: on top of the shoulders and the hood were little brown amorphous shapes—appliques—that imitated the mottling pattern on a turtle’s shell and skin. They looked amazing, but Adrien knew they had taken Marinette a long time to do—she kept cursing herself for making more work for herself for the sake of creativity whenever it was brought up. Still, Adrien rather felt her hard work had paid off nicely, especially when she turned the mannequin so they could see the the large applique on the back: a batik cotton fabric in rich shades of green and splotches of yellow, creating the design of Emerald Shell’s shield. (It was actually nearly identical to Shell’s shield…almost as if Marinette had gotten the opportunity to study the shield up close…hmm…) Here Adrien spotted Marinette’s signature as well, right on the edge of the center of the shell design. She drew their attention next to the hands of the mannequin, where she had fitted the gloves for the Turtle outfit, olive green to match the hoodie with wide cuffs and splotches of brown applique as well, right across the knuckles. She gently tugged the bottom of the hoodie up so they could see the pants of the outfit—made of medium brown khaki, with a loose fit that made it hang low on the hips of the mannequin. Adrien knew the pants had given Marinette a bit of trouble as well: she pieced them together at double right angles, which Adrien had learned was a _very_ hard thing to do, because it was very hard to get the intersections of sideways stitching to match up exactly against the long side seam of the pants…but once she managed it, she had told him the rest had been a piece of cake afterwards, like the splotches of olive green on the back pockets of the pants and the brown, outdoor leather sandals, which she just had to buy without doing anything special to them. The mask must have taken her some more work, however: the base was brown to match the pants and the splotches on the hoodie, rounded at the top to cover the forehead but ending just below the hood, and wrapping around to cover the cheekbones and the nose. It was accented with thin leather tiles of matte olive green, patterned around the face to imitate the appearance of a sea turtle’s face. Overall, it was a very cool design, and Adrien might be a little jealous if he hadn’t known for a fact that the Chat Noir outfit that sat to the left of the Turtle outfit was the inspiration that kick-started the whole line in the first place.

The [Peacock outfit](http://lunararcher.tumblr.com/image/153168991566) pushed at the borders of what was defined as “casual”, in Adrien’s opinion. It was a dress, like the Bee outfit, but this was a high-low dress created with royal blue jersey knit fabric, sleeveless, and with a proud high collar. The upper bodice gathered in slightly to the neck, where the collar had thin, gold, overlapping feathers detailed onto the fabric, with a metallic foil Marinette assured them was washable. Again, Adrien saw Noah’s eyebrows raise, but again, he said nothing. And, once again, Adrien was willing to take this as a good sign.

“Where’s your signature on this one, Marinette?” He bothered to ask, though he already knew; he couldn’t help but want to help her show off a little, especially for a tough critic like Noah Dumont.

Smiling, Marinette pointed to a spot on the collar of the dress, and Adrien saw her name hidden amongst the feathers. Once again, out of the way and easy to miss, if one wasn’t looking for it…but once found, it was undeniable. Adrien grinned at her, and Marinette flushed, cleared her throat, and continued onto the dark blue sash around the waist of the dress, which was made of broadcloth, that tied closed around the base of the zipper in the back, which was invisible like the one on the Bee outfit. Marinette had taken the time to detail a small peacock’s head into the knot of the bow, an accent to match the long, pleated fan of fabric that created the illusion of a peacock’s tail and made the bottom of the bow, with red and gold circles at the bottom, centered on each pleat. The high-low skirt swooped from mid-thigh in the front down to the ankles in the back, flared and lined with gold-colored tulle, which gave it its shape as it hung gracefully around the mannequin, the gold of the dress nicely paired with the warm golden brown suede ankle boots that Marinette had chosen to pair with it. And the mask was fantastic: a royal blue base to match the dress, the nose of it ended in a sharp point, like a beak, with gold markings around the eyes. Feathers crowned the top of the mask, and three plumage feathers taller than the rest sprang from a diamond-shaped faux gem in the center of the forehead of the mask.

“It’s not very casual,” Noah said; it seemed he just remembered how words worked.

Marinette gave an easy shrug.

“It’s a little dressier than the others, sure. But I’d venture to call it ‘business casual’, at the very most—anyone who knows what they’re doing wouldn’t dare to wear jersey knit to a fancy affair, don’t you think?”

“Hmm,” Noah hummed, lifting his cup to his lips before he seemed to remember that it was empty. Adrien and Desiree exchanged amused looks as Marinette led them over to the [Chat Noir outfit](http://lunararcher.tumblr.com/image/153168906484) next.

“Now, this was your first outfit, Marinette, correct?” Desiree asked. Adrien did not miss the fond look that crossed Marinette’s features as she smoothed her hands over the Chat Noir jacket, brushing imaginary dust from it.

“The very first. I’ve modified it a little since, then, though: the chartreuse green satin came later, when I was looking at it and decided it needed more green. The jacket is lined with satin, and the seams on the sides—front and back—have satin piping. And if you turn up the cuffs here,” she paused to do so, “you can see the lining here, too. But this is a style choice—anyone who doesn’t like the lining showing doesn’t have to have it showing. They can just keep the jacket zipped and the collar up. But for those who like the lining, the collar can be turned down when the jacket is unzipped or even partially unzipped, and so can the lapels. It all depends on the person wearing it, really.”

“I like the green,” Adrien said idly. Smiling, Marinette turned down the collar and the lapels for him, so that more of the green lining was displayed. It looked awfully comfy…but Adrien would restrain himself. Asking to try it on would just cause all kinds of problems there…

There were other little changes Marinette had added: a belt, for example, that threaded itself through two belt loops in the back of the jacket, buckled in the back with a silver buckle, the end of it capped in silver and left to dangle, like the belt tail on Chat Noir’s superhero outfit. The shirt underneath the jacket was made of black plain jersey, save for a line of little green paw prints that marched diagonally upwards from near the center of the bottom of the shirt. Around the paws, the black of the shirt gave way to shades of gray as well, looking as if the paws were leaving a trail of destruction in their wake…

“What’s with the gray?”

Adrien looked up at Noah’s question, focusing on Marinette, at the way her cheeks warmed as she cleared her throat and answered,

“This is to, well…imitate the look of Cataclysm.”

“Chat Noir’s power?”

“Yes,” Marinette answered firmly, although the blush was beginning to reach her ears as she turned her back to them, hands hovering over the detail of the undershirt, as if it was sacred. “I’ve seen this seen this power used, um, on video, and I wanted to try and imitate it on fabric. I’m pretty happy with the result…and it gave me a place to put my signature, since I didn’t want to ruin the satin with it.”

She pointed to her name hidden in the gray, just above the two middle paws in their marching line. Adrien felt his stomach plunge, and he swallowed, feeling silly. He was being ridiculous—there was absolutely _nothing_ concerning about having Marinette’s name tucked into the space that was meant to represent Chat Noir’s powers of destruction, as if she, too, might get caught in the blast and destroyed…nothing at all…

“I like the boots!” Desiree enthused, breaking Adrien free from his own mind.

“Oh, yes. _These_ were a challenge,” Marinette admitted with a slight sigh as she crouched down next to the leather boots, which were half-zipped and folded down, giving them the appearance of shin guards, just like the ones on Chat Noir’s super suit. “I went through a _lot_ of leather glue just to get these to look how I wanted, and I had to bug Adri—ah, Mr. Agreste about a million times for the foot sizes of the models chosen for the show so they would be the correct size…if my designs are chosen, I mean.”

Ah, Adrien remembered that. At the time, he hadn’t finalized any of the models for the show yet, so he had just given her his foot size…oh boy. He hoped someone else would be able to fit those boots as well, because if he was the only one, then _he_ would have to model the Chat Noir outfit…and there were too many reasons to name why _that_ was a bad idea.

“This mask looks too sharp to wear,” Noah said, and Adrien suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Sure, he had thought the same thing too when he first saw the mask, but still...

Marinette, however, merely smiled.

“I assure you, it’s not,” she said, straightening up and carefully removing the Chat Noir mask from the mannequin. “As I already said, my number one priority in making these masks was to make sure our models’ faces would be protected. But if you don’t believe me…would _you_ like to try it on and see for yourself?”

Noah raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t think—”

“I hardly think it’s fair to complain that the mask is too sharp if you don’t try it on and see for yourself, _Mon._ Dumont,” Desiree agreed with a sly smile as she gave Noah’s shoulder a squeeze. Noah’s gaze turned thoughtful…and then he gave a shrug.

“Fine. But if _my_ face gets scratched—”

“It won’t,” Marinette cut him off, and she stepped forward, stretching onto her toes to reach Noah—he was a tall guy. As she helped him put the mask on, Adrien felt a sudden stab of resentment. He knew it was a stupid thing to be jealous over—no one here knew he was Chat Noir, after all—but he couldn’t help himself. His mask shouldn’t be worn by anyone but him, and it _especially_ shouldn’t be _his_ girlfriend who was putting _his_ mask on anyone else. He felt his expression sour, but there was nothing he could do—the mask was already on, and Marinette was taking a step back to admire her handiwork.

“Well?” Desiree asked as Noah stood there, blinking his dark eyes at them from behind the mask. “Is your skin all right?”

“…Yes,” Noah said, his tone a bit stiff, as if it cost him something precious to admit that his assumption might be wrong. “It’s…actually quite comfortable.”

“It doesn’t look too bad on him either, does it, Marinette?” Desiree teased with a nudge to Marinette, who was watching Noah with her head tilted to the side, brow puckered, eyes speculative.

Just as Adrien felt his jealousy beginning to spike, his girlfriend gave a shrug.

“It’s all right. But it could never beat the real thing.”

She glanced over at Adrien as she said that, and Adrien felt himself freeze. There was something _very_ knowing in that glance, and though she looked away quickly, Adrien felt his heart jump into his throat, and it began to pound a frantic beat against his Adam’s apple.

Oh…oh god. He didn’t…he hadn’t…this whole time, he had been trying (and failing) not to think about whether or not Marinette was Ladybug. He had been trying to be good, trying to be happy with what he already had, because what he already had was _amazing,_ and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. All this time, he had been focused on trying not to fall back into the trap, his obsession with Ladybug. He had been working so hard to get over her, and possibly stumbling upon her true identity by accident had thrown him for a loop…

…But amidst the chaos, he had never stopped to wonder whether or not Ladybug knew who _he_ was.

But that glance Marinette had just given him—what did it mean?

Did she… _know_?

And if she _did_ know, did that mean that Adrien was _right_?

That Marinette, his amazing girlfriend Marinette, and Ladybug, amazing, miraculous _Ladybug_ were…

One in the same?

“Well!” Desiree exclaimed, and once again, Adrien was jostled from his own mind and back to the moment. The Chat Noir mask had been returned to the mannequin, where it belonged for now, and Marinette, Desiree, and Noah were all off to the left, standing around the Ladybug outfit. Adrien hastened to join them as Desiree continued, “This dress here is _marvelous!_ But…it isn’t the design you submitted for approval, Marinette! What happened?”

“Oh,” Marinette sighed, giving a tired-sounding laugh that made Adrien ponder once again over how tired she looked. “Yeah…I was hit by last-minute inspiration, actually. I was looking at my work the other day, and it hit me that not one of my pieces was influenced by my Chinese culture. And that broke my heart, because my mother wears such lovely clothes, and I almost felt like it was an insult to her to not include anything that reflects how much I love her and where I come from. So…”

She trailed off, waving a hand towards the beautiful cheongsam that hung on the mannequin. Adrien stared at it, wondering how she had produced something of such high quality at the very last minute. Had she slept at _all_ the past couple of days?

“Well…since this is a brand new design to all of us here, why don’t you walk us through it?” Desiree requested.

“Sure,” Marinette agreed, though there was something a little nervous in her smile now, as if she was afraid they wouldn’t like it. However, other than that brief glimpse of nerves, Marinette maintained her poise as she introduced the brand new [Ladybug outfit](http://lunararcher.tumblr.com/image/153169008829) to them:

“The fabric is a red Chinese brocade, and the black circular medallions on it are a Chinese symbol, which means—”

“Luck,” Adrien said softly. He blinked, realizing that he had interrupted, and flushed red with a cringe. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Marinette answered, looking pleased and a little bit amused. “That’s exactly right—it means ‘luck’.” She pointed to the center medallion, the one closest to her heart. “My signature is a little harder to find on this one—I didn’t want to disturb the gold filigree that was already on the material, so I just stitched my name in with gold thread.”

Ah, yes, there it was, amidst the gold—the familiar loops of Marinette’s signature, threaded through the fabric with care. Adrien almost wanted to reach out and touch it…but of course, that would be incredibly rude, and so he kept his hands firmly at his sides as Marinette went on with the detailing of her work.

“It’s a typical cheongsam style, going down to mid-thigh. My mother likes to wear them with leggings, but this one can be worn with or without bottoms, depending on how modest the wearer wants to be.”

“With that slit over there on the right, I don’t think anyone who’s afraid of showing a little skin should be wearing it,” Desiree teased with a wink. Marinette gave a laugh that was slightly strained.

“I guess not.”

“The sleeves have gaps in them,” Noah remarked, stepping a bit closer to the dress, as if he wanted a better look. “That’s not typical cheongsam style, is it?”

‘ _How would you know?_ ’ Adrien almost drawled sarcastically; for the nth time, he reminded himself to be cool. He couldn’t show his bias, he was a professional, and he had to remain so for Marinette’s sake…

Besides, she continued to prove that she could handle Noah perfectly fine on her own.

“Well no, that isn’t,” Marinette readily admitted with a nod, “but I took a couple artistic liberties, as I am allowed to do.” She gestured towards the three-fourths length of sleeve, and to the length of black satin criss-crossing the gap in it. “I chose to add Ladybug’s yo-yo string to the design. See? The beads at the bottom are like little mini Ladybug yo-yos hanging from the sleeves.”

“Oh, and they’re up there, too, with the buttons!” Desiree exclaimed in delight, pointing to the black satin cheongsam knots, their typical fastenings replaced by little red buttons spotted with black and connected with black chords. “This is _adorable,_ Marinette!”

“Thanks,” Marinette answered, blushing, yet unable to suppress the grin that was spreading across her face. Adrien was happy to see some of the tension finally leaving her shoulders.

“This mask is odd.”

Never before had Adrien wanted to punch a fashion critic in the mouth so much…

But, if he was being objective about it (which was really, _really_ hard to be…), he would have to admit that Noah had a point: Ladybug’s mask didn’t look anything like the other masks, in that the other masks obviously related to their outfits in some way. Even the Bee outfit, though the mask was not bee-like at all, was in the shape of a honeycomb, which tied it to the outfit. But this mask…

“It is odd,” Marinette agreed with Noah, much to Adrien’s surprise. Her face was grave as she observed the mask herself, something…off, about her expression. As if she was suppressing something…her true feelings about the mask? Was she just agreeing with Noah to appease him? But no, she wouldn’t do that…so why?

“…Can you tell us your thought process, Marinette?” Desiree prompted. Marinette nodded, slowly, still regarding the Ladybug mask with that slight frown. Adrien wondered what she was thinking…too bad he couldn’t read minds…or hers, at the very least…

“Well…I wanted the mask to tie in with the Chinese theme of the outfit…” Abruptly, Marinette turned to them with a cringe. “…But traditional Chinese masks didn’t have the, uh… _look_ I was going for here. So I improvised: those black swirls at the top are meant to represent antennae, though of course, Ladybug doesn’t have antennae…but I thought it’d be cute.”

“…And, the right side of the mask?” Asked Desiree, her gaze focused on the mask as she gestured around the curving shape of the mask. “That’s…a Chinese symbol, isn’t it? It’s—”

“Yin,” Marinette finished for Desiree, her full attention captured by the mask again, almost as if she was entranced. “It’s usually paired with yang, and in Chinese philosophy, together, they represent harmonic balance.”

“Doesn’t yin mean ‘evil’?” Noah asked, and Adrien really _did_ roll his eyes this time. “Why would you put the symbol for ‘evil’ onto the beloved superheroine of Paris?”

Slowly, Marinette turned to look at him, blinking herself out of what appeared to be a very deep reverie.

“It’s a common misconception to assume that the concept of yin means evil,” she said calmly, though her blue eyes were sharp as she looked at Noah. “What it actually represents is a principle in nature: where yang is positive, yin is negative. Where yang is active, yin is passive. Yang, male; yin, female. You get the idea: they’re opposites.”

“…And it’s here on Ladybug’s mask because…?”

“For the same reason Chat Noir’s outfit is the only one that sits here right next to Ladybug’s, while the others are set behind them,” Marinette explained, turning back to her creations, stepping in between the Chat Noir outfit and the Ladybug outfit, her fingertips trailing down the fabrics of both outfits. “He’s the yang to her yin.”

“I don’t see the symbol of yang on _his_ mask,” Noah pointed out. Marinette gave a nod, her back still to them as she raised a hand, a fingertip caressing the left side of the Chat Noir mask. Adrien gave an involuntary shiver.

“I considered it…but in the end, it wouldn’t have made much sense, since Chat Noir’s outfit isn’t Chinese-based,” Marinette admitted, dropping her hand away from Chat Noir’s mask, though she still stared at it, as if she was seeing something the rest of them couldn’t. “And Chat Noir is much more than an accessory to Ladybug…”

She turned her head, peering at them from the corner of her eye, a secret, _knowing_ little smile playing at the corner of her lips.

“Without Chat Noir…Ladybug is unbalanced.”

Oh god, the _room_ was on fire.

No, wait.

It was just Adrien.

He hastily turned his back, sucking in a deep breath in an attempt to cool down, but holy _shit_ , Marinette was just _trying_ to undo him, wasn’t she?! Sure, that wasn’t the first time he’d heard her say that, but for her conviction to be so strong that she bothered to add it into something as precious as her _designs_ —

“Is it heavy? The mask, I mean,” Adrien heard Desiree ask, and he used her distracting Marinette to try and get himself back under control.

“Oh, no, it isn’t. I tried it on, and it’s just as comfortable as the other masks.”

“I want to see!”

“You want to try it on?”

“No, I want to see _you_ in it, Mari-doll!”

The sudden silence behind him resonated within Adrien; he whirled around in time to see the naked panic in Marinette’s eyes before she fixed her expression into a polite, if strained, smile.

“Oh…well, I would, but, I, uh, I’m sure _Mon._ Dumont is a very busy man; we shouldn’t keep him waiting any longer than necessary—”

“Oh nonsense,” Desiree said, laying a hand on Marinette’s shoulder and giving her a smile. “He’s stuck with us so far, hasn’t he? Just for a moment, Mari-doll, please?”

Marinette bit her lip. Adrien didn’t know her reasons for not wanting to put on the mask—he suspected, but he didn’t _know_ —but whatever they were, it was clearly making her uncomfortable. But since she didn’t have a ready reason to say no to Desiree…

And then Adrien spotted it: the folded red thing leaning against the mannequin that wore Ladybug’s outfit, a wooden handle attached to it. Another mystery that had yet to be explained.

A distraction.

“Hey, Marinette?” Adrien interjected, working to sound casual as he pointed to the folded thing. “What’s that?”

Marinette turned to see what he was pointing at; he saw her eyes light up when she saw it.

“Oh, that!” As she rushed over to grab it, Adrien caught the disappointed look on Desiree’s face. He almost felt bad…but hey, it wasn’t like it was _vital_ for her to see Marinette in that mask.

“Is that a parasol?” Adrien asked when Marinette stepped forward again, clutching the wooden handle with one hand as her other hand slid up the handle, under the red fabric covering the end of it. Marinette smiled, apparently pleased he had caught on so fast.

“Yes. Now, this was kind of a pain to do, because I had to make the pattern itself…but I think it looks good.”

She opened the parasol, resting it on her shoulder and carefully turning so they could see the pattern for themselves. Adrien blinked and frowned. That pattern…

“That’s not the same symbol as the one on your dress,” Noah pointed out; it seemed as if he was ready to jump at every inconsistency in Marinette’s work that he could find. Marinette turned back around to face them, raising a dark eyebrow at him.

“I know,” she answered simply, blinking her blue eyes at him, as if it was pointless for him to bring up such a point. (Adrien smirked behind his hand.) Noah’s brow furrowed.

“Why is it different?” He asked after a moment. “What’s this symbol supposed to mean?”

Marinette lifted the parasol off her shoulder, lowering it so that she herself could stare at the pattern, as if she had never seen it before. When she answered, her words were slow; she was apparently choosing them with care.

“…There's no exact translation to it,” Marinette replied quietly, her eyes still fixed on the parasol. “But to me, this pattern signifies something…important…that happened to me in the past. A day that changed my life.”

She lifted her gaze to Noah’s, her blue eyes bright and strong.

“I don’t have a name for it. But it’s significant.”

Without meaning to, Adrien gasped out loud. With Marinette’s words, he abruptly remembered where he had seen that symbol—not in his Chinese studies, like the symbol for ‘luck’, but on a box.

A mysterious black box that had appeared in his room, after his botched attempt to attend public school like any _other_ fourteen year old kid would have.

A mysterious black box that housed a silver ring, and within that silver ring, a mischievous little creature that had called itself a kwami…Plagg.

It was a symbol Adrien had never seen anywhere else before…and neither had anyone else he had known.

Until now.

Marinette caught his gaze when he gasped, and he stared at her, taking in that knowing glint in those bluebell eyes…

Bluebell eyes he had fallen in love with eight years ago.

“Adrien? Are you all right?”

He startled; he had quite forgotten that Noah and Desiree were still there. And he could feel himself turning red, _damn it._

“Fine,” he mumbled, answering Desiree's question as he rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand and glanced away. “Just…it’s a cool parasol.”

“…Thank you,” Marinette said, but when he glanced back at her, she was turning away from him, closing the parasol and returning it to its original position. Her ears were red, he couldn’t help but notice.

“Well! I believe that was everyone!” Desiree said, giving Marinette a not-so-subtle wink as she turned her back and called to the room at large. “All right, kids: the judges will now deliberate! There are snacks waiting for you in my classroom, so help yourselves! Please leave your work here so that we may keep it in sight as we make our decision! Once a decision has been reached, we’ll head over and announce it, and then you can pack up your stuff and head on your way! Remember: all of you did a _fantastic_ job, so no matter who wins the competition, you’re all basically getting full marks anyway.”

A ripple of laughter sounded through the studio, and Desiree waved the students out with grand sweeping gestures of her arms. Adrien smiled at Marinette as she passed, and she returned it, though it appeared that her nerves were beginning to get the better of her again; her teeth moved to worry her bottom lip as she looked away from him, picking up her pace to answer the summons of a couple of her classmates. Adrien watched her go, a myriad of emotions swirling through him at her retreat. It seemed like he was always watching her race away from him, one way or another…

“Adrien? If you would?”

Adrien sighed and turned to face Desiree and Noah. Right—his personal issues would have to wait. Right now, he had a job to do.

“Well,” Desiree began, clasping her hands together for a moment before she folded her arms. Adrien blinked as she did so; he thought he saw something silver glint on her hand, but now he couldn’t. Hmm…maybe he imagined it. “What do you think, _Mon._ Dumont?”

Noah blinked.

“Why are you asking me?”

“Well…to be perfectly honest, I think Adrien and I are already decided,” Desiree spoke candidly, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow. “All that’s left to figure out is whether or not we can convince you to agree with us.”

Adrien made a face. As much as he wanted to deny these words and claim that there was room for deliberation for the other candidates…he couldn’t do it. He should’ve known he couldn’t be as objective about this as he needed to be…

Noah glanced between him and Desiree, speculation in his expression.

“…So you two are already decided on _Mme._ Dupain-Cheng,” he guessed. As if it wasn’t painfully obvious.

“Yes,” Desiree answered for the both of them, making shushing noises when Adrien tried to interject. “Well? Is there another line here that has impressed you more than Marinette’s? To be perfectly honest, I doubt it.”

“Do you?” Noah asked idly, as if the answer mattered little to him.

“Oh, yes,” said Desiree with a nod and a knowing smile. “You see, with all my other students, who are perfectly talented in their own right, you did not hesitate to cut them down at the knees. You seemed to pick up on whatever they were insecure about immediately, and then you went for the jugular. There was no mercy…”

Despite her vicious words, Desiree’s smile only grew wider.

“But Marinette did not give you that opportunity. Every flaw you tried to pick at, she explained without missing a beat. And she took your criticisms in stride even when she didn’t have a ready explanation. See, you were lucky—Marinette has razor-sharp teeth, but she kept them hidden, and kept her calm demeanor the whole time, despite your attempt to knock her down. She has a will of iron, nerves of steel, and a spirit made of titanium.”

Desiree stepped forward, into Noah’s space. In her heels, she was the same height as him, and he seemed to realize that, if the frown on his face was any indication. Still smiling sweetly, Desiree continued.

“Admit it, Noah—you know she has what it takes to survive in this business. My other students…they might need a little more work. But Marinette is already standing on her own. She has the talent to create her own boutique and be much more successful than you could ever hope to be—”

“All right, all right, enough with the speech,” Noah huffed, cutting Desiree off as he stepped back from her, scowling. “No need to bully me; I’m not so jaded that I don’t know talent when it’s staring me in the face.”

Desiree stepped back as well, looking satisfied, but now it was Adrien’s turn to frown.

“You really, truly think Marinette is talented?” He wanted to check, ignoring the clucking of Desiree’s tongue as he looked at Noah. “Seriously, don’t let Desiree talk you into voting for her if you don’t completely believe that she has what it takes.”

Noah raised his eyebrows, as if he was silently questioning why Adrien was protesting.

Adrien didn’t have to explain anything to him, though—he just wanted to be sure that Noah truly believed in Marinette’s talent. He knew the one thing she was worried about was being accused of cheating her victory in this competition, being doted on by one judge and dating the other. Noah’s opinion was just as valid as his and Desiree’s, and Adrien needed it to be a serious opinion, not a peace offering.

Noah met Adrien’s searching gaze for a few more seconds before he looked away, huffing.

“The girl’s headstrong,” he said bluntly. “And she’s inconsistent—the Ladybug outfit was a lot fancier than all the others, even more so than the Peacock outfit, and it just didn’t fit with the rest of her designs, Chinese inspiration or not.”

Adrien nodded, glad to hear these criticisms now, because as much as they had annoyed him earlier, the fact of the matter was that he was biased, so he needed to hear them, whether he liked it or not. Noah paused, as if he expected one of them to jump down his throat, and Adrien wondered if he was used to being shouted down when his opinion offended someone else. Desiree opened her mouth to speak, but Adrien shot her a warning look. She scowled and pursed her lips, but nevertheless remained silent. Something flashed through Noah’s eyes when he was not interrupted—surprise?—before he cleared his throat and continued.

“As someone who helps run a company that produces and sells casual styles to the world, I would say that _Mme._ Dupain-Cheng needs to re-work her definition of ‘casual’…

“…But with all that said…her talent truly is remarkable.”

Adrien felt his whole face light up, and he struggled to regain control of his expression.

“So, does that mean—?”

“Yes, yes, I vote for _Mme._ Dupain-Cheng, too,” Noah replied, with an air of a king being bothered with troublesome administrative tasks. Again, he lifted his travel cup to sip from it, and again, he realized that it was still empty. With a grunt, he tossed it off to the side, where a student’s sick bin was still sitting beside his spring line; the travel cup shot right into the can, rattling at the bottom before it became still. Adrien was impressed, considering the trash can was a considerable distance away from where they stood.

“Well, look at the time,” Noah said idly, checking his expensive watch before straightening his silk tie. “I should get going—I have a lot of paperwork I know I need to sort through. Today’s just all kinds of fun.” With a sigh and a shrug, Noah offered his hand again to Adrien, who shook it. “Tell your girlfriend I said congratulations.”

Adrien sputtered, turning red on the spot.

“Wha—who—I don’t—”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Noah, cutting through his babbling as he strode past, giving Desiree a nod. “Make sure she gets some sleep, too—she looks like she could use it.”

On that parting note, he was gone.

“…Well, that was interesting,” Desiree said, still frowning after Noah, though he had already disappeared. “He can’t be a very popular man over at AMI.”

Adrien smiled a little at that.

“Maybe not…but I bet a lot gets done with him around, too.” Brushing off Desiree’s questioning look, Adrien gestured grandly with a smile that was just a tad rueful. “Shall we break the rest of your hopeful students’ hearts?”

Desiree laughed, looking sheepish.

“Oh, I suppose we must…it won’t make it any easier on them to wait, will it?”

Surprisingly enough, however, most of Desiree’s students took the news with good grace. Only one student had burst into tears, but when questioned, she had sobbed that she was just so glad that it was finally over; the stress had been _killing_ her.

The only person who reacted oddly was Marinette—upon hearing that she was announced the winner of Desiree’s competition, she stared blankly at her professor for a full five seconds…and then she laid her head down on her desk.

“Uh…Mari-doll?” Desiree questioned as she and Adrien edged closer, Adrien spotting that Marinette’s eyes were closed. “Are you all right?”

“…Yeah,” Marinette mumbled, her voice small. Adrien leaned over her, concerned, but she just gave a huge yawn, slumping over her desk. “I’m just so _tired._ ”

Adrien laughed, moving to stand beside Marinette, sliding her arm around his shoulders.

“Come on. Time for bed.”

“I can walk,” Marinette protested feebly around another yawn, but despite this weak assertion, her eyes did not open, and Adrien shrugged at a grinning Desiree before he excused the both of them, lifting Marinette into his arms when they were no longer in sight of her classmates.

“My clothes,” Marinette muttered sleepily, her brow puckering as she clung to Adrien. God, she was adorable.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get someone to pick them up,” Adrien said, making a mental note to call Sylvia once his hands were free. “They’ll be the feature line of Agreste Fashion now. Congratulations, Mari.”

Marinette hummed, barely conscious. Chuckling to himself, Adrien slipped her into the passenger side of his car, strapping her in. She hummed again, her eyelids fluttering, but she did not open them, bluebell eyes still concealed behind the pink, eye-shadowed skin of her eyelids. Her chest rose and fell evenly; she was already deeply asleep. It warmed something in Adrien to know that she trusted him enough to be able to sleep around him. He knew he didn’t deserve it…not after everything he had done to her…

A stray lock of hair was escaping her bun, curling its way to the front of her neck. Adrien brushed it back, tucking it behind her ear for safekeeping. His fingers lingered there as he looked at her, simply adoring the way she breathed. She so had him wrapped around her little finger, even just like this. It was really unfair.

And Adrien couldn’t bring himself to care.

“…I’m unbalanced without you too, you know,” he said softly, though he knew Marinette could not hear him. But maybe that was a good thing; he didn’t know whether or not he wanted to have this conversation with her yet. And, despite her… _telling_ design choices…maybe she wasn’t ready to have this conversation yet, either.

But they would. And soon. Too soon, considering everything they would have to discuss… _everything._

That could wait. It could wait forever, if Marinette wished it. And Adrien would be fine with that, because she was here, with him, they were together, and they were happy.

The saying _was_ ‘ignorance is bliss’, wasn’t it?

Adrien leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to Marinette’s forehead.

“I love you, Marinette. My Lady, Marinette.” He whispered to her skin. She did not stir. When he pulled away, it was to find a slight, vague smile tracing the curve of her mouth, as if he had spoken a spell that would enable her to have sweet dreams.

Adrien smiled.

Ignorance was bliss indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Word document for this story has reached 817 pages.
> 
> And I'm not even DONE yet. *Sighs*
> 
> Oh well. Anyway, if you guys haven't already, check out [lunararcher](http://lunararcher.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr! She was so VERY helpful with this chapter: she both created AND illustrated the designs for Marinette's spring line, AND was nice enough to give me written descriptions for each of them; all I did was give her a simple prompt, and she took them all and made them into something AMAZING! Seriously, if you didn't click the links in the story while you read, go look! Lookit all that talent, I am STUNNED. The fashion portion of this chapter is just as much her work as it is mine, if not more so, so be sure to shower her with kudos!!
> 
> Next chapter will probably bring more drama, so brace yourselves!
> 
> And thanks, as always, for reading! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	28. Outfoxed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know we're technically on hiatus here, but I finished this chapter early, so why not post it? I can be benevolent.
> 
> On occasion. :D
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

“Nino? Are you all right?”

Nino hummed in a noncommittal fashion, opening and closing the nondescript jewelry box he held. Nestled within the dark velvet of the box was a shiny orange pendant, in the shape of a fox’s tail.

The Fox Miraculous.

Nino had had a difficult time choosing between the Fox and the Bee Miraculous, simply because he had never seen either of them in action. Their powers had been explained to him by Master Fu, of course, but that didn’t change the fact that he had never seen them with his own eyes. Still, as he understood it, the Bee Miraculous granted its holder powers that were better used for offense, while the Fox Miraculous, with its power of wielding illusions, was more a defensive type of power.

And since Team Miraculous (Nino inwardly shuddered at the name) already possessed two offensive fighters and one defensive fighter…and since the Bee Miraculous would look _ridiculous_ on a certain someone, no matter how long his hair had gotten…

Nino frowned, staring down at the Miraculous as he questioned his decision for the umpteenth time.

Was this wise? Ladybug had already made it clear that she was still smarting over the ‘Volpina’ incident seven years ago, so having a new Fox Miraculous holder _might_ put her on edge. But at the same time, she had told him that she would accept whatever decision he made in their new team member…

Green suddenly invaded his vision, and Nino blinked, finding Wayzz floating in front of him, regarding him with a grave look.

“You are doubting yourself again.”

Nino grimaced. It was kind of obvious, wasn’t it?

“No so much doubting as I am worrying,” he corrected the kwami, offering his hand. Wayzz sat down in his palm, regarding him with his calm green eyes as Nino sighed again. “‘Nette says she’ll be cool with whoever I choose, but while she says that _now_ , I think she might change her mind later. She’s not good with new superheroes: she didn’t trust Camille when she first showed up, and she even accused _me_ of being a thief when Emerald Shell first appeared!”

“Bear in mind, Nino, that Marinette was unaware that either of you existed before she met you,” Wayzz pointed out with a wave of his tiny hand. “Because she did not know any better, she jumped to conclusions based on previous bad experiences with supposed ‘new’ Miraculous wielders. But she is aware of the situation this time around, and therefore, it stands to reason that she will be less, ah, hostile, shall we say, to any new Miraculous wielder, because she will know that it was you who chose them.”

“Yeah...still, Volpina left a bad taste in her mouth. I don’t think she’ll be thrilled that I chose _this_ Miraculous of the two…” Nino sighed again with a shrug. “But I’m kinda thinkin’ she’s already gonna be pissed at me for who I’ve decided to give it to…”

Wayzz folded his arms and closed his eyes, appearing to be in deep thought.

“So you are decided? You will give your friend the Fox Miraculous?”

Nino nodded with a firm look, though Wayzz couldn’t currently see it.

“Yeah. I already know we can trust him, and I think he’d do a good job. Besides, orange would probably look good on him.”

“But you fear Marinette will not be happy.”

“Well, he _is_ her boyfriend,” Nino said, leaning back in his computer chair. “I don’t think she’ll be jazzed about the idea of throwing him into this mess. Hell, I don’t like it much, either…but when it comes down to who I can trust with this kind of power...my options are a little thin on the ground, you know what I mean?”

Wayzz opened his eyes to peer at Nino in that strange, ‘wise master’-ish way he seemed to pick up from Master Fu; after spending decades upon decades with him, it was natural that he might pick up some of the old master’s mannerisms.

“…What? You think I’m making a mistake?” Nino asked when Wayzz didn’t say anything right away.

“…No,” Wayzz replied after a moment, a little hand stroking his chin. Nino thought of Master Fu and grinned despite himself. “I just thought I might give you some advice, Nino: not everyone wishes to be Miraculous. It is both an amazing gift…and a terrible burden. You have experienced first-hand what sacrifices must be made when you are a Miraculous wielder…just bear them in mind when you ask your friend to join you, and don’t be surprised if he declines your offer.”

Nino blinked. Well… _there_ was a possibility he had never considered before now.

“You think he’ll say no?”

“He might,” Wayzz replied mysteriously, “I just want to make you aware of the possibility, Nino. And, if he _does_ reject your offer, do not take it to heart. Everyone has their reasons for wanting power…and so does everyone who avoids it.”

Wayzz left Nino’s hand then, leaving him in front of his computer, frowning thoughtfully. Admittedly, when he played this scenario over in his head, he had always envisioned Adrien jumping at the chance to join the superheroes of Paris. After all, who wouldn’t? The danger aside, being a superhero was pretty effin’ sweet.

But now Wayzz had proposed a new possibility: the possibility that Adrien might not _want_ to be a superhero. And, though Nino had never considered this before, and couldn’t really see it happening…at the same time, he couldn’t deny that it _could_ happen. Adrien was a good guy, sure, and Nino would definitely trust him with his and Marinette’s lives as well as their secrets…but what if it was too much pressure for the guy who had been put under extreme pressure nearly all his life? Was it selfish, to ask a highly accomplished, practically self-made man to add one more responsibility to his already full plate of duties? Would Adrien be able to handle it? Or would it be the last straw, the one that would finally snap the back of the camel that was his sanity clean in half?

Nino’s hand closed around the jewelry box once more, leaning his chin on his hand.

‘ _There’s always the first option you thought of…_ ’ Whispered a voice in the back of his mind. Nino huffed and closed his eyes.

No. He had already decided against it. As much as it made sense, and as much as he would finally like to clue her in on why he randomly disappeared or got injured…no. This would be too much to ask of her.

Adrien was his best friend, and Nino loved him, but at the end of the day, he could assure himself that Adrien was a big boy and could take care of himself.

And while _she_ was just as capable, if not more so, if anything happened to her…

“Adrien,” Nino muttered into the still air of his bedroom. “Definitely Adrien.”

Because his first option was just unthinkable.

 

* * *

 

The café was warm and cozy; as soon as Nino stepped inside, a rush of heat hit him, fogging up his glasses. As he grumbled and removed them to wipe them clean, a blob approached him that looked like his best friend.

“Morning, Nino! You’re not as late as you said you were gonna be.”

“Yeah, my errand didn’t take as long as I thought. Hey, dude,” Nino greeted in return, replacing his glasses on his face and grinning at Adrien. “Good to see that you’re still alive—I haven’t heard anything from you all week.”

Adrien gave a dramatic groan, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, sorry. Fashion Week’s gonna consume my life until next Thursday.”

“Sounds rough,” said Nino sympathetically as he joined Adrien at the table he had already claimed for them. Adrien nudged a mug of coffee and a plate of croissants in his direction as Nino inspected his face. “Been sleeping much?”

“Not really,” Adrien replied with a slight lift of his brows. “But that’s what concealer’s for, right?”

Nino’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

“I thought you only wore make-up for the photoshoots you don’t do anymore?”

“Well I don’t wear it a lot, but if it makes my face pretty, why not?”

Nino shook his head.

“I think you’ve been in the fashion industry too long, bro.”

“And I think you put too much stock in gender roles,” Adrien returned simply, sipping from his mug of tea. “That could change with the right experiences, though…hey, you want to take a shot at modeling? I know some people—”

“Hell no,” Nino turned him down flatly.

“Aw c’mon! It could be fun!”

“Which is why you quit?”

“I meant it could be fun watching you try not to look as uncomfortable as you clearly would be.”

“Fuck you, too, man.”

Adrien chuckled as Nino grumpily bit into his croissant. He ripped off a piece of his own and popped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before making a face.

“Hmm…not bad, I guess.”

Nino picked up on his tone, raising an eyebrow…but then he realized the problem and began to smirk.

“Gotten spoiled by the pastries at your girlfriend’s parent’s bakery, huh?”

Adrien flushed red, glancing away from Nino.

“…Maybe,” he admitted in a mumble. Nino cracked up, drawing stares from other patrons, but he couldn’t care less.

“Dude, you’re _precious,_ ” he teased, and Adrien stuck his tongue out at him.

“Shut up. _Anyway_ , what was this errand you had to run before you got here?”

“Oh, it was nothing big. Just something I got for Alya.”

The words were a mistake, and Nino realized it immediately when Adrien’s eyes got big and sparkly.

“Ooh, you got her a present?”

Nino gave him a look.

“Dude—”

“I wanna see!” Adrien insisted. Nino huffed and tugged his bag from the floor.

“What the hell is it with you and presents, man?”

“What? I think they’re nice!”

“But this one isn’t _for_ you,” Nino pointed out with a roll of his eyes as he sifted through his bag. He tugged out the black, unmarked box, but thought to crack it open first— _whoops_ , wrong box. This one contained the Fox Miraculous, and he wanted to ease into that subject before he just gave it to Adrien. Nino stuffed that box out of sight and grabbed the correct one, grateful that he had thought to look before just plucking a box from his bag at random and presenting it to Adrien. _That_ would’ve been an interesting conversation on a mostly empty stomach…

“So? Gifts don’t have to be for me for me to appreciate the sentiment behind them…” Adrien paused as Nino placed the box on the table, glancing over in time to see his friend frown. “Unless this is an apology gift for something you did?”

Nino rolled his eyes.

“Nah, nothing like that. This is a ‘just because’ present…though I won’t be surprised if she automatically thinks I did something wrong like you did.”

Adrien grinned shiftily as Nino opened the box, revealing the amethyst earrings within.

“Oh wow, they’re stunning,” Adrien approved with a nod. Nino snorted with a grin.

“Well thanks, I’m glad you approve, dude,” he answered, taking the box back and putting it back in his bag. “I was losing sleep over whether _you’d_ like them or not.”

Adrien made another face at him, leaning his cheek in his hand.

“So Alya likes earrings, hm?”

“She likes them okay,” Nino answered with a shrug. “Her hair’s always down, though, so half the time I don’t know whether she is or isn’t wearing ‘em…but she doesn’t wear a lot of jewelry anyway, save for her engagement ring.” Nino grinned. “This is just something I’m getting to remind her how much I appreciate her.”

That…and he was starting to feel a bit guilty. Here he was, about to ask his best friend to join a superhero team, when he knew good and well that this had been his fiancée’s dream as long as he’d known her. True, the fervor of that dream had died down over time, and Alya had mentioned—to Shell—that it sounded like being a superhero was more work than play. But still, when Nino was knowingly choosing to trust his best friend over his fiancée with a secret and responsibility of this caliber…he couldn’t help but feel like she would be hurt, if she ever found out.

So, in the end…he supposed it _was_ an apology gift, wasn’t it? Damn.

Adrien was quiet for a moment, appearing to mull something over as he ate more of his croissant. After he swallowed, he suddenly spoke.

“Mari’s always wearing earrings. Always the same pair.”

Nino blinked. That…was an odd thing to bring up…

“Oh, yeah?” He asked casually, picking at his croissant as he watched Adrien carefully from the corner of his eye. “I guess I never think about it.”

Because he _knew_ why Marinette always wore the same earrings…but now he had to wonder: did _Adrien_ know why? Or was he beginning to suspect things on his own…?

Adrien blinked, appearing to come to. He gave Nino the smile Marinette said was his “model smile”, the one he used when he wanted to assure someone that everything was all right when it really wasn’t. Now that Nino had come to recognize it, instead of putting him at ease, it just made him more suspicious.

“Oh, I’m just thinking out loud.” He took up his mug, but instead of drinking, he played with the tea bag, dunking it unnecessarily in his drink. As he watched the bag bob around, he continued, “I got her these earrings for Valentine’s Day, but she didn’t seem to be thrilled about them.”

Oh, right: Marinette _had_ mentioned agonizing about that in the brief time Nino had seen her before this Fashion Week madness had begun. He had jokingly suggested she get more piercings in her ears so she could wear both pairs of earrings, but the way she laughed at him suggested that there was no way _that_ was happening. Shaking his head at the thought of his hopeless friends, Nino clapped a hand to Adrien’s shoulder.

“Don’t sweat it, dude. ‘Nette loves the earrings, I can tell you that. It’s just…the earrings she wears all the time are special to her, that’s all.”

Adrien looked up, his green eyes searching as he met Nino’s gaze.

“…Do… _you_ know why they’re special…?” He asked, his voice low and cautious, as if…

As if he suspected Nino knew something he didn’t, but was starting to catch on to.

Nino took a breath. Well…he supposed this was as good a lead-in as any…

“…Yeah, kinda,” he admitted, removing his hand from Adrien’s shoulder to root through his bag again. “Actually, there’s kind of something I wanted to ask you, Adrien—”

There was a sudden chime from Adrien’s pocket, and Nino looked over to watch his friend reach into his pocket and draw out his phone. He was about to ask if whatever it was could wait, but then Adrien’s eyes widened, and he shot up from his chair so fast that he knocked it over.

“Shit! I’m _late!_ ”

Nino blinked as Adrien hurriedly righted the fallen chair, muttering apologies to nobody in particular, before snatching up his coat and scarf.

“Wha—late for what? I thought you didn’t have to do Fashion Week stuff until this evening?”

“Yeah, but I forgot I have a therapy session today,” Adrien clarified with a cringe.

“I thought you had those on Wednesday mornings?”

Adrien shook his head, perhaps too vigorously; blonde hair whipped his face and he cringed, pushing it back into place. Dude needed a haircut.

“I couldn’t do it Wednesday because Desiree needed me at IFA to choose the winner of her competition,” he explained hurriedly as he zipped up his ‘Ladybug Man’ jacket. (Nino couldn’t help but poke fun at a red-faced Marinette every time he saw that jacket.) “So I rescheduled it to this morning, but _completely_ forgot like a dumbass—sorry, Nino. Can we take a rain check on this conversation?”

“Uh, I guess, yeah,” Nino agreed, and in his apparent relief, Adrien gave him a tight hug that nearly knocked the breath out of him.

“Thanks, Nino. Sorry for bailing halfway through breakfast, but I already paid for everything, so it’s on me! Catch you later!”

And out the door darted Adrien. Nino gave a sigh, picking apart more of his croissant.

Welp, there went his plan to get this going as soon as possible. The moment had been near perfect, and he was just about to ask…but then Adrien’s schedule intervened. Hmm…was this supposed to be a sign of some kind…?

‘ _Of course not,_ ’ Nino chided himself, grabbing one more croissant to go as he finished off the rest of his coffee. ‘ _He just forgot he wasn’t free_ all _morning. If I hadn’t stopped to get Alya’s earrings, we might have a new Miraculous holder already…_ ’

Alya…

‘ _No,_ ’ Nino reminded himself forcefully, scowling to himself as he stepped out into the chilly morning air, one half of the croissant wedged in his mouth. ‘ _I’m not having this argument with myself again. It’s Adrien. That’s_ final _._ ’

Nino shook his head, chewing slowly on the half of croissant in his mouth. Great, now he was having arguments with himself. He really needed to stop stressing about this whole thing.

Ripping off a piece of croissant that had not entered his mouth yet, Nino stuffed the chunk into his coat pocket, where Wayzz was resting. The little dude like sardines most of all, but Nino had learned that he wasn’t picky, and so he liked to give Wayzz a bit of food whenever he stopped to grab himself something to eat, just so he didn’t feel rude. Had to keep Wayzz strong in case of akuma attacks, after all. The Butterfly was quiet for the moment, which was a blessing amidst the _rest_ of the chaos that was occurring in the city, but the stillness never lasted long, so whenever he struck again, Nino would be ready.

And hopefully by then, Team Miraculous would have another ally to fight at their side.

 

* * *

 

Fuck fuck fuck, he was late, Ivan’s secretary, whose name Adrien still had yet to learn, was going to chew him out like he was a disobedient schoolboy in Catholic school, _fuck why had he bothered to reschedule if he was just going to forget about the appointment like a dumbass?!_

“I know, I’m late, sorry!” Adrien called as he rushed into the lobby, speeding past the secretary to avoid the tongue lashing. “I’ll be on time next time, I promise!”

“Wait, don’t go in there!”

Too late—Adrien burst into the office like he was running for his life, panting.

Immediately, he saw why the secretary had warned him not to enter: Ivan was not alone in his office at the moment.

“— _dangerous,_ and if you think I’m going to let you keep doing—”

“— _not_ your decision, Ivan, this is _important,_ and I’ll do what I—!” A small, curvy, blonde-haired woman was shouting over him before she looked over and spotted Adrien. Her amber eyes widened and she paused, her shoulders hunching defensively to make herself seem smaller, which was quite a change from the way she stood with her legs apart and shoulders squared as she shouted at Ivan. Ivan was staring down at her—he towered over her by a ridiculous amount—and it looked like he was having the hardest time calming down, judging by the fists clenched tightly at his sides. But once he glanced over and saw Adrien standing awkwardly just past the doorway, he closed his eyes and took the deepest breath Adrien had ever witnessed anyone take, it seemed endless.

Finally, Ivan opened his eyes again, looking down at his fiancée.

“…Myléne, can we finish this discussion later?”

Myléne ducked her head in a jerky nod and snatched up a bag that was at her feet, barely mumbling a greeting to Adrien before she left the office. Adrien was too slow to get over the shock of seeing her here that it occurred to him belatedly that he had just intruded upon something that looked very serious.

“Uh…I can come back—”

“No no, don’t worry about it,” Ivan cut him off, raising a large hand to massage his forehead. “It’s a conversation that’s meant for home in the first place…she just stopped by to bring the lunch I’d forgotten this morning, and…anyway, come in, Adrien. You’re running a little late today, aren’t you?”

“Sorry,” Adrien apologized with a cringe as he nudged the door shut behind him. “I’ve been working around the clock lately to get ready for Fashion Week, so I hadn’t seen Nino at all, and we agreed to have breakfast before I remembered I was supposed to be here instead of there.”

“Oh. Sorry to interrupt your limited friend time,” Ivan apologized with an awkward smile as he sat down behind his desk, Adrien having a seat before him. “Fashion Week starts in a few days, doesn’t it?”

“Five, to be exact,” Adrien sighed. “That’s why I had to reschedule; this is the only morning I have to myself this week.”

“Right…”

It was clear that Ivan was not invested in their conversation. Adrien briefly wondered if it was his place to ask his therapist about the problems he seemed to be having with his fiancée…

“Can I ask you something?” Ivan abruptly asked. Blinking, Adrien let out a startled “sure”, and Ivan huffed.

“Akumatized Victims Anonymous,” he began, making the words sound menacing as he growled them. “They’re…they’re not helping anything, are they?”

“‘ _Helping_ ’? Ha!”

The front of Adrien’s jacket wriggled, and Plagg popped free, giving Ivan a disdainful look.

“It isn’t enough that we have to deal with both real and fake akumas and terrorists with bats and bombs, is it? Nooo, we _also_ have to deal with goo-throwing, self-righteous brats who think it’s _just fine_ to insert themselves into a fight that is _not_ theirs, no matter what they might think!”

“Plagg, shush,” Adrien hushed him, snatching the kwami out of the air and pressing a thumb to his little mouth. As he struggled against Adrien’s grip, his Chosen did damage control. “What Plagg _means_ is that…well, things aren’t as ideal for us right now…but no, AVA, isn’t exactly hel— _ow_!”

Plagg chomped on Adrien’s thumb; in his shock and pain, Adrien let go, and the kwami zoomed away from him, hovering in front of Ivan with his little arms crossed.

“If you have the means to dissuade the rebellion that your fiancée is a part of, then please, _do_ it. I’m sick of seeing all the insulting graffiti around the city. It’s not as funny as they might think.”

Adrien blinked. Huh. He hadn’t known the Chat Noir abuse in the graffiti around the city bothered Plagg…

Ivan sighed again, a massive hand pressed to his face.

“I’ve been trying, Plagg, trust me,” he assured the tiny god, producing a wheel of camembert in what looked like a peace offering. Plagg appeared to resist for about three seconds before he dive-bombed Ivan’s desk, immediately gobbling down the nearest piece of camembert he could unwrap. Adrien rolled his eyes, but Ivan smiled, appearing relieved. “It’s been…an ordeal, to put it lightly. Alix—you _do_ know Alix is the ringleader, right? The one calling herself Timebreaker?”

“Of course,” Adrien replied.

“Yeah. Well, apparently, she’s gotten a lot more charismatic over the years.” Ivan ruffled his carefully coiffed hair, huffing when the blonde streaks of his hair fell into his face. “She has everyone around her _completely_ convinced that this is something they all need to do. I don’t know how long they’ve been planning this, but it has to have been a while, since they seemed to come out of nowhere in force. Now I’m wondering if all of Myléne’s acting classes were _actually_ acting classes, and she keeps helping Nathanael make that _goo_ they keep throwing around and…”

Ivan sighed again, and Adrien abruptly felt bad for him. After all, he knew all too well what it was like to be on the opposite side of an issue like this with someone he held dear…though he happened to be on the wrong side of things in that situation…

“I know what you mean,” he said soothingly, giving Ivan a sympathetic look. “Team Miraculous hasn’t been having much luck talking them down, either.”

Ivan abruptly cringed.

“Oh…right. They’re, uh, not big fans of you, are they…?”

Adrien gave a would-be casual shrug.

“They can join the anti-fan club. I hear they have jackets now,” he said, smiling a little bitterly. It was true, he had no one to blame for this animosity but himself, but even so, he still had _feelings_ , for god’s sake…

Ivan frowned, folding his hands on his desk.

“I’m worried, Adrien,” he said, and Adrien saw his thumbs fidget. “Nothing I’ve said to Myléne has left an impression, and for every Anti-Akuma Taskforce member they injure or publicly humiliate, it seems like two more AVA members get put in the hospital. And I’m scared…how long will it be before Myléne is next? How long before someone takes it too far…and somebody ends up dead?”

The words chilled Adrien’s spine, making the hair at the nape of his neck stand on end. He…couldn’t deny that it was a possibility he and the rest of Team Miraculous had considered, more than once. It wasn’t a comfort.

“We’ll try harder,” he promised. But this only made Ivan’s frown deepen.

“I’m worried about you, too,” he admitted, causing Adrien to blink in surprise. “I know your super suits are supposed to be indestructible—”

“‘ _Supposed_ ’ to be?”

Ivan silenced Plagg by shoving another piece of camembert in his mouth.

“—but you can’t stay in the suits forever. I know you’re superheroes, and all, but…I’m afraid there’s only so much you, and Ladybug, and Emerald Shell can do.”

Adrien, despite himself, did not like hearing these words. He sat up straighter, as if that would help prove his capability in solving a situation that had gotten so complicated that it was hard to see a way out anymore. But just because things had become difficult didn’t mean there _wasn’t_ a way out.

“We’ll figure this out, Ivan. All of this leads back to the Butterfly: once we figure out who they are and stop them, we can deal with the rest. But in the meantime, you have my word that we’ll protect everyone from themselves and each other until the akumas are stopped. I promise.”

Ivan held Adrien’s gaze for a long moment, his frown growing less pronounced with every second that passed. Finally, he sighed one final time…before he smiled.

“I believe you…Chat Noir,” he said, and Adrien smiled in return. “Just…make sure not to overexert yourself, all right? Again, I know you’re a superhero…but you’re still human, too.”

“I know, I know,” Adrien replied, his smile evolving into a grin. “You think you’re the only one constantly warning me to be careful? I wouldn’t dare to die on Ladybug—she’d bring be back to kill me again on principle.”

Ivan blinked.

“Would she? Really?”

“…Well, no,” Adrien admitted, smiling as he gave a slight shrug. “Still, she wouldn’t be happy with me.”

Ivan’s eyes twinkled with the unspoken knowledge shared between the pair of them.

“I bet she wouldn’t.”

Adrien shifted in his seat, beginning to frown.

“Um…Ivan. About Ladybug—”

“Nope,” Ivan halted him, holding up a hand to stop him from speaking, suddenly frowning. “This is a safe space for you to share your thoughts, Adrien, but there are also some things I’m better off _not_ knowing, too. Wouldn’t you agree?”

A corner of Adrien’s mouth turned down. This was weird—it felt like he was purposefully lying to Ivan whenever the subject of Ladybug came up. Was it really okay to leave things this way?

Suddenly, he noticed the way Plagg was looking at him. It was an intense look, and when Adrien stared at him, Plagg made a swiping motion across his cheese-covered mouth with a tiny fist.

‘ _Zip it,_ ’ his cat’s eyes ordered Adrien. Adrien’s eyebrows raised…but in the end, he decided to heed the warning from both Ivan and his kwami. They _were_ smarter than him, after all.

“I guess so,” he replied to Ivan at last, a little amused as Ivan visibly relaxed. Checking his watch with a cringe, Adrien added, “We have about twenty minutes left, thanks to me…should I just pick a playlist and be done with it for today?”

“If you choose,” Ivan allowed with a shrug of his large shoulders. “Or you can complain about all the fashion stuff you have to get done before next week, if that’ll help you relax some.”

“Oh _thank god,_ ” Adrien huffed, leaning forward. “I’ve been dying to complain to _someone_. I’ve been holding back since Mari’s just as stressed as I am, but you’re not involved in Fashion Week at all, so I can complain to you!”

“Yes, you can,” Ivan agreed with a chuckle, “whatever you like, Adrien. I’m listening.”

Adrien grinned. As bizarre as his life was lately, it was nice to be able to return to the mundane, even if just for a little while. Sure, ‘high fashion’ wasn’t what many people would consider mundane, but when the comparison was to ‘superhero lifestyle’, Adrien would take what he could get.

 

* * *

 

The upside to planning a wedding with Alya was that she was super-focused and super-organized when she wanted to be, but without being a Bridezilla: she made sure that every detail about the wedding included Nino’s opinion as well, even if it was about little things he didn’t necessarily have an opinion on, like if the tablecloths should match the curtains of the reception hall, or whether silver or gold rings would look better on the cloth napkins.

The downside to planning a wedding with Alya was that she got so jazzed about being able to plan it together that oftentimes, she got distracted by wanting to have sex. And Nino didn’t have the willpower to actually focus on what they were _meant_ to be doing when she started getting undressed, so not a lot of planning got done in a timely fashion.

Other decisions ended up getting made, though…

“Where should we honeymoon?” Alya asked in between kisses to Nino’s chest as they were basking in the afterglow. Nino hummed, running a hand through her hair.

“I don’t care where as long as we can be naked the whole time,” he answered honestly, and Alya giggled.

“The whole time?” She asked, hovering close enough over him that he could see her even without his glasses, smirking down at him in a devious fashion. “You sure? I was just about to ask if you’d rather my lingerie be in white or black.”

Nino raised an eyebrow.

“Why not both?”

Alya gave him a flat look.

“Because I can’t afford to buy two pieces of honeymoon lingerie?”

“I’ll pay for them.”

Alya stared down at him in blank shock.

“You will?”

“Depends: will your choices make me think it was money well spent?”

A wicked grin split Alya’s face.

“Baby, the pieces I have in mind would make you want to rip them _off_ me, despite them being so damn expensive.”

“Then I’ll pay for them,” Nino agreed immediately, and Alya threw her head back and laughed. God, she was beautiful. He couldn’t wait to marry her.

Nino was about to suggest a round two when his phone began to ring.

“That’s Adrien,” he announced, recognizing the ringtone. Before he could reach his phone, however, Alya snatched it up, straddling him as she answered.

“Hello, Nino’s phone, Alya speaking?”

“Alya—” he protested, sitting up to reach for his phone, but Alya stayed him with a hand to his chest, raking her nails down his skin in that intense way she knew he liked. Nino hissed and cursed under his breath, and Alya grinned at him.

“Can it wait, Agreste? I have your boy a little tied up at the moment.”

“Gimme the phone—”

“Shh,” Alya hushed him, a finger to his lips, thoroughly distracting him when she rocked her hips forward. Nino swore a little louder as his hands flexed over her thighs, but she appeared not to notice as she listened to whatever Adrien was saying. “Hmmm…well, I _guess_ we can reschedule planning our wedding…you know the one that you’re the best man of and all?” It looked like Adrien said something snarky; Alya quirked a brow the way she always did when she was being challenged. “That’s none of your business, Agreste. Besides, you can’t prove whether or not we’re wearing clothes right now—”

“She’s using me as a sex slave, Adrien!” Nino cried comically, only to have Alya shove him back onto the bed. He could still hear Adrien’s laughter, however, and Alya rolled her eyes good-naturedly at the pair of them.

“Fine, fine, I’ll send him over. But you owe me for this, Agreste.” Alya smirked. “I’ll be sending you your meter long tab any day now. Bye-bye.”

Alya hung up and leaned over, pecking Nino’s lips.

“Adrien wants to see you. Apparently you guys got interrupted during your breakfast date this morning?”

“Yeah, he forgot he had a therapy session,” Nino explained, reaching over to the nightstand for his glasses. He accidentally picked up Alya’s instead, and handed those over to her in favor of his own. “You don’t mind if I go? We _were_ in the middle of planning our wedding, technically.”

“It’s fine,” Alya said, tracing his jawline with her nose and making him shiver. “I know you’ve been missing Adrien all week. Besides, now that your CD’s out, things have slowed down a bit at the record company for you. And Eric’s cheap ass _finally_ hired a couple more people to work at _Paris Today_ , so we both have a little more free time now. So I don’t mind sharing you with your boyfriend every now and then.”

Nino grunted as Alya climbed off him, frowning at her back.

“Adrien is not my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, whatever,” said Alya, rolling onto her side to reach the glass of water on Nino’s nightstand. In between sips, she asked, “You wanna take a shower first?”

“Yeah…if I’m supposed to be meeting Adrien…where?”

“At his place.”

“Then I’d better shower first,” said Nino, getting up and stretching his long limbs. “Can’t go to his lovely abode smelling like sex.”

“What, he doesn’t like that?” Alya teased, and Nino turned to give her a look…but found himself staring at her instead, sprawled over his bed, completely naked, smirking up at him as she posed. Damn…that was a hard sight to walk away from…

Nino almost changed his mind and chose to stay with his fiancée…but then he remembered the very important question he had to ask Adrien concerning a piece of jewelry, and he sighed. Putting it off wasn’t going to do him any favors in the long run…

Kneeling on his bed, Nino leaned over to kiss Alya once more before he got up again.

“By the way, I got you something, babe,” he tossed casually over his shoulder as he headed into the bathroom, leaving the door open behind him so Alya could watch him walk away. As he started the shower, he heard Alya call to him:

“Why, what’d you do?”

Nino rolled his eyes as he took off his glasses and placed them on the bathroom counter.

“Nothing…I just thought I’d get you something. It’s in the front—no, wait, it’s in the big pocket of my bag,” he hastily corrected himself with a cringe. He distinctly remembered moving the Fox Miraculous to the front pocket of his bag so he wouldn’t confuse it for Alya’s earrings again, but even so, he almost told her the wrong pocket. Whew, bullet dodged there.

“Okay? Well, thank you, baby. I love you.”

“Love you too, babe,” he called back, stepping into the tub and letting the warm spray of water wash over him. “Remember, it’s the big pocket!”

“I got it,” Alya called back, laughter in her voice. “Hey, I’m gonna head back to my place for tonight, okay? There’s some work I’ve been putting off to plan for the wedding, so I gotta get that done if I wanna graduate on time. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“‘Kay! Drive safe, babe!”

“I promise nothing,” said Alya’s voice right outside the shower curtain, and Nino scowled, pulling it back to reveal her already dressed again and ready to go. He frowned at her mischievous expression.

“Not funny,” he said, only slightly appeased when Alya reached up to kiss him.

“Okay, okay, I’ll be safe,” she promised, nuzzling her nose against Nino’s before she let go, smiling at him. “Bye, baby.”

“See you later, babe.”

He was able to hear the door slam closed all the way in his bathroom, signaling Alya’s exit. He trusted she would lock up after herself, and so he stayed in the shower, grabbing the soap and working up a lather as his mind wandered, reliving the afternoon in vivid, glorious detail.

‘ _Easy there,_ ’ he reminded himself when blood began to rush south. He couldn’t afford to take _that_ long of a shower when Adrien was expecting him…and he really _did_ need to have a conversation with the guy already. So Nino sternly focused on showering, and nothing else, slipping only occasionally (what could he do about it? His fiancée was fine as hell). In a few minutes, he was stepping out of the shower, shivering slightly in the cool air of the bathroom, thanks to the door he had left open. As he dried off, he realized belatedly that Alya had never told him what she thought of the earrings. Had she just grabbed the box and left? It was likely.

Nino shrugged. Oh well. She’d tell him what she thought later.

Right now, what mattered was the _other_ fashionista in Nino’s life, and his opinion on a particular piece of jewelry he may or may not accept, for one reason or another. And in a strange way, Nino was _nervous_ about it, almost as nervous as he had been about asking Alya to marry him. He supposed this was a commitment of sorts, as well, but a different kind: the commitment to fighting evil at his and Marinette’s side…oh, and with Chat Noir too, of course.

Oh god, Nino couldn’t believe he was just thinking of this now, but would Adrien even _like_ Chat Noir? Somehow, Nino doubted it—they both had a sort of cheesy sense of humor, sure, but if Adrien witnessed how Ladybug sometimes looked at Chat Noir when she thought no one else was paying attention…?

Nino frowned. He was going to have to have a conversation with her too, right after he spoke to Adrien…but one thing at a time.

 

* * *

 

The coded knock on the door told Adrien immediately that it was Nino, which was good, because he was kind of too busy to answer the door at the moment.

“It’s open!” He called around the tongue wedged in between his teeth as he mashed the buttons on his controller, softly cursing under his breath whenever his Chat-bot took a hit. He barely nodded at Nino as he strolled in, leaning forward on his couch as he pressed his sudden advantage when his opponent’s bot fell to its knee—

But then his bot’s ass was handed to it when the Lady-bot performed a spinning kick that knocked it into pieces. Adrien sighed, resigned to the triumphant laughter in his ear.

“All right, all right: you win again, Mari.”

“So, what is that, like, _thirty_ cookies you owe me now?”

“It is _not_ thirty. That’s a ridiculous amount of cookies.”

“You’re just saying that because it’s cookies you have to _give,_ ” said Marinette’s voice through Adrien’s gaming headset. “If they were cookies you were _getting,_ I wouldn’t be hearing any complaining.”

Adrien made a show of scoffing, but didn’t know where to take it from there. After all, she had a point…so instead, he changed the subject.

“Feeling a little better?”

Marinette sighed.

“Yeah. Surprisingly, kicking your butt at MechaStrike is an amazing stress reliever.”

Adrien rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

“At your service, Mari.” Nino flopped onto the couch next to him and nudged him pointedly. “But Nino’s here, so I gotta go.”

“Oh, all right,” Marinette sighed again. “I guess I can find… _other_ ways to relieve my stress…”

Was Adrien imagining the suggestion in her tone? Either way, it brought a flush to his face that was hard to dispel. Nino raised an eyebrow at him, and Adrien cleared his throat.

“Uh, well, er, have fun with that…?”

“I will,” said Marinette brightly, with just the _scantest_ hint of deviousness in her tone. Minx. “Bye, Adrien.”

“Bye, Mari.” Tugging off his headset and switching his T.V. to the news channel, Adrien turned to give his friend his full, undivided attention. “Hey, Nino. Sorry again for ditching you this morning.”

“Ah, it’s cool. I know you wouldn’t have left unless you had to,” Nino replied with a casual shrug. “Uh…am I allowed to ask how therapy’s going, or is it, like, confidential?”

Adrien laughed at the discomfort in Nino’s expression. While it was sweet of him to worry about boundaries, Adrien couldn’t help but be amused.

“Nah, you’re good.” He paused to marshal his thoughts. Hmm, how to explain… “And therapy is…well, ‘good’s not exactly the right word…it’s…therapy?”

At Nino’s blank look, Adrien grinned apologetically and tried again.

“I mean…it’s like…it’s somewhere I can breathe when I feel like the air everywhere else is toxic.” Adrien frowned. “God, that’s dramatic. It sounds like I think everywhere else sucks, doesn’t it?”

“A little bit,” Nino admitted, though he grinned. “But I think I get it—a place where you can chill and be yourself. It’s like a safe mental space or whatever, right?”

“Yeah, exactly,” Adrien agreed, nodding. “And Ivan’s really cool. He never pushes me to talk when I don’t want to, and everything goes at my pace.” He smiled, a tad awkward. “I didn’t want to stick with it at first…but I’m glad I did.”

Nino smiled, patting Adrien’s back in a comforting way.

“I’m glad you did too, dude. If not, I might not even be sitting here right now.”

“That’s true.” Adrien shifted uncomfortably, glancing askance at his best friend. “Nino—”

“I know, man,” Nino cut him off, understanding in his golden gaze as he patted Adrien’s back once more. “We’re cool.”

Adrien let out a breath of relief. He didn’t deserve the friendship of the man beside him…but he was grateful for it anyway.

“So…we were talking this morning,” Adrien began after they had sat in companionable silence for a time, watching some of the news (AVA was getting _far_ too much coverage in Adrien’s opinion). Nino blinked, his brow furrowing as he scratched the side of his head.

“Yeah…about that…I’ve got something for you, Adrien.”

Adrien blinked as Nino tugged his bag into view, slipping a hand into its front pocket.

“But it’s not my birthday…” He remarked as Nino withdrew an unmarked box identical to the one he had shown Adrien this morning and set it down on the coffee table in front of them. He glanced over at Nino, but he was too busy staring at the box to make eye contact, as if something important was encased inside…something vital…

“Just open it,” Nino insisted when Adrien made no move towards the mysterious box. “I think it’ll be easier if you see it first…and then I’ll answer your questions.”

Adrien stared at his best friend. He looked awfully anxious about whatever was in this box…

“Okay…?” Feeling his pulse speed up in anticipation, Adrien reached forward, his slim fingers closing around the box. As he picked it up, he noticed Nino lean forward a little, as if he was really looking forward to Adrien’s reaction. Now even more curious, Adrien cracked open the box…

…And was promptly confused.

“…Okay, first question: why are you giving me the earrings you said were for Alya?”

Nino’s face went blank.

“…What?” He said, the word coming a little too slowly. Adrien frowned at him in some concern, turning the box around for him to see the amethyst earrings he had shown Adrien just that morning.

“These are for Alya, aren’t—Nino, what’s the matter?”

Nino didn’t reply—he was too busy ripping through his bag, tossing out random items as he searched through it…but he seemed to fail to locate whatever he was looking for, if his loud swearing was a clue. As he rocketed to his feet, it was Adrien’s turn to stare up at him in bewilderment.

“Nino, what—?”

“I said the big pocket,” Nino said, this sentence meaning nothing to Adrien…though, to be fair, he didn’t seem to be saying it to him as he pawed at the big pocket of his bag, his eyes wide and staring. “I said the big pocket because I moved it to the _front_ pocket, I _know_ I did! But it’s not here! And if Alya’s earrings were in the _front_ pocket… _shit!_ ”

“Nino!” Adrien tried again, but Nino was racing out of the living room, into the foyer.

“I gotta go!” Was the only explanation he tossed over his shoulder before he was out the door quicker than Adrien could blink. He sat there, staring after the trail of dust Nino had left behind. What just happened…?

“Alya’s earrings…” Adrien said to no one, glancing down and finding with some surprise that he was still holding the box. In his rush to leave, Nino had left them behind…as well as a lot of his stuff that was now strewn about on the floor in his furious search for whatever he had been looking for, like a spare t-shirt, his favorite pair of headphones, a key Adrien hoped wasn’t the key to his apartment, or he would have to come back immediately for it…

Jeez. What had been so important that he had to just rush out like that? And since these earrings were Alya’s, what was it that Nino _actually_ meant to give Adrien? Question after question, with none of the answers within sight. How curious…

Though he was still frowning over this mystery, Adrien closed the box again and set it back down on his coffee table, and then got up to gather the rest of the things Nino dropped. Belatedly, he realized that if he had Alya’s present, then she must have whatever it was Nino meant to give to _him_. Whoops.

Well, at the very least, once Nino calmed down, it would probably make a funny story later.

 

* * *

 

Nino could _not believe_ he had fucked up like this.

All that trouble to _separate_ the two identical boxes, and he went and _mixed them up_ instead! His _first_ task as Guardian and he _fumbled_ it! What a disaster!

‘ _Stay calm!_ ’ The half of his brain that wasn’t shouting expletives at the top of its lungs commanded. ‘ _There’s a chance she hasn’t looked in the box yet! She might’ve had a lot of work she needed to catch up on! It might not be too late!_ ’

Nino huffed, drawing up short at a ‘do not cross’ signal, tapping his foot in an agitated manner as he waited for the sign to change. Alya’s place was about twenty minutes’ walking distance from here…but if he ran, he could make it in ten. So as soon as the sign changed, indicating it was now safe to cross the road, Nino took off, ignoring any and all surprised noises that might have occurred around him. He was a man on a mission, and nothing (save for crosswalk signals) was going to stop him from undoing the horrible mistake he had somehow let himself make…

…Well, it was more of a ‘misunderstanding’ than it was a ‘mistake’…a ‘mistake’ implied that it was something that wasn’t meant to happen, and while he _hadn’t_ intended it, well, there were _worse_ choices in a Miraculous wielder…and it wasn’t like he _hadn’t_ thought about how his fiancée would fare as a part of Team Miraculous—

“ _Stop_ it!” Nino scolded himself out loud, ignoring the startled looks a couple gave him as he ran past. “It was supposed to be Adrien! Now, if anything happens to Alya—!”

If anything happened to Alya…how would he live with himself?

Something nudged his side from within his coat. Wayzz was in Nino’s pocket; he supposed the kwami was trying to comfort him the only way he could at the moment. And while Nino appreciated that, he really did, the only way he would truly be soothed was when he took the Fox Miraculous back from Alya.

…He _could_ do that, couldn’t he? If she hadn’t opened the box yet, that meant she hadn’t met the kwami for the Fox Miraculous, which meant she wasn’t Chosen yet, right?

But if she already _had_ been Chosen…what would Nino do? What _could_ he do…?

Nino was so distracted within his own mind that he ran right past Alya’s building; he skidded to a halt, whirled around and sprinted back the way he came, up the steps of her building and up to the fourth floor where she lived. When he reached the door, he had to hop on one foot to compensate for the too-fast stop he tried bringing his body to. He narrowly avoided falling over this way, and started rifling through his bag again for the key to Alya’s apartment that he hardly ever used, since she was always over at his apartment, and _fuck_ , he just realized that he left her earrings back at Adrien’s place, and oh, Adrien, he had to be _so_ confused after Nino had just run out on him like that, shit, no time to worry about him right now, _where was that goddamn key?_

He couldn’t find it. He must have either left it somewhere in his apartment, or tossed it out of his bag while looking for the box containing the Fox Miraculous while he was at Adrien’s. _Fuck._

Nino pounded on the door instead, hoping with all his might that Alya wasn’t too busy to let him in.

“It’s open!” Her voice called, and Nino paused at that. Since when did she leave her door unlocked? Odd. Was she waiting for somebody?

‘ _No time,_ ’ he sternly reminded himself, pausing only long enough to take a deep breath before he opened the door, poking his head into the whirlwind of stuff that was perpetually Alya’s apartment. Her laptop sat on the couch, unattended, while she was nowhere to be found.

“Babe?” He called, stepping into the chaotic living room and shutting the door behind him. At his summons, Alya appeared from the hall, blinking in surprise.

“Oh, it’s you,” she replied, quirking a brow. “I thought you were Marinette. She’s supposed to be coming over so we can drink instead of dealing with our adult responsibilities.”

Despite the situation, Nino snorted.

“Is that wise?”

Alya gave a shrug, her hands on her hips.

“Who cares about ‘wise’ when work is driving us both crazy?”

“Touché,” Nino chuckled before he remembered his purpose for coming. “Uh, babe, listen…you know that present I gave you earlier…?”

Alya merely stared blankly at him for a moment before she seemed to register what he was talking about.

“Oh, you mean this?”

From out of her shirt collar, she lifted a chain, the tail of the Fox Miraculous pulled free from under her shirt collar to rest against her thumb.

She was already wearing it.

_FUCK._

“It’s cute,” Alya said when Nino did nothing but stare at it in mute disbelief. “Normally I’m not a necklace person, but I like the style of it. Thanks, Nino.”

Nino blinked himself back into the moment, taking in Alya’s smile.

Wait…he was confused. Why was she acting like…?

“…You…like it?” He asked blankly, hardly noticing as Alya lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah? What, did you not expect me to or something? And what’s wrong with you? You look like you’re gonna throw up.”

“Alya,” Nino began, stepping closer to her and searching her hazel eyes for some sign that all was not as well as her calm demeanor suggested. “Didn’t…when you opened the box…didn’t…something happen…?”

Now Alya tilted her head to the side, her brows furrowing as she stared up at Nino in confusion.

“What was supposed to happen? Did you mean to stuff it with confetti or something? I’m glad you didn’t—that shit’s like glitter’s sluttier cousin. Just a little of it gets _everywhere_ , and you can _never_ get rid of it. Learned that the hard way when I let Marinette bring one of her dresses over here that one time—Nino? You okay?”

“Uh…”

How exactly was he supposed to answer that? He, the newly appointed Guardian of the Miraculous, had fucked up his _first_ Miraculous gifting by accidentally switching it with a pair of earrings, thereby accidentally giving his fiancée the Fox Miraculous when he _meant_ for it to go to his best friend. But now as he stood there, nearly panicking, Alya was acting like…like there was nothing _to_ panic over. She was acting like…the necklace around her neck was…just that. Just a necklace.

And Nino couldn’t help but wonder: was that _possible?_

“Uh…babe? Can I—?”

Just as he was reaching forward, Alya’s phone rang shrilly from her bedroom. She turned towards the noise and sighed.

“I’d better get that. Our new hire Derek is pretty much hopeless right now; he needs me to hold his hand through every edit he makes. Good guy, but…” Shaking her head slightly, Alya began to walk away, heading for her bedroom. She paused for a moment to look back at Nino, giving him an inquisitive look. “Oh, did you need to talk to me about something, Nino?”

Nino stood there, his gaze dropping to the fine chain he could just see encircling Alya’s neck. So many questions…but…

“…Nah,” he ultimately decided, stuffing his hand in the pocket that didn’t contain Wayzz. “It’s nothing.”

Alya gave him another quizzical look, but then her phone stopped ringing and she sucked her teeth.

“Damn it. I’d better call him back, or he’s gonna have a mental break down.” She glanced back at Nino once more. “See you later?”

“Yeah,” Nino agreed. Smiling, Alya blew him a kiss before she disappeared down the hall leading to her bedroom. And Nino, for his part, could do nothing but turn around and leave, closing the door behind him with a ‘click’. He stood there a moment, staring blankly at the floor.

Alya hadn’t behaved strangely at all. She hadn’t freaked out about a flying, talking fox thing, hadn’t cursed him or hit him for surprising her with such a startling occurrence, hadn’t acted like _anything_ was wrong. In fact, she had just treated the Fox Miraculous like it was any other gift she would receive from Nino. Granted, she hadn’t kissed him for it this time, but she was busy with other things at the moment.

But still: what did this _mean?_

“Nino?”

Nino blinked, a blur of green suddenly in front of him. He was startled to find himself outside again; he wasn’t aware that he had been walking up until this point. He hastily glanced around, covering Wayzz with his hands so no one would see him, but no one seemed to be looking his way.

“What’s up, dude?” Nino asked, only a little self-conscious that it was strange for him to be whispering to his hands; he could just as easily act like he was blowing on them to warm them up. Wayzz peered up at him, looking…troubled.

“Are you all right?” He asked, and Nino blinked. Damn…how bad did _he_ look to cause his kwami to worry about him?

“…I guess?” he admitted slowly, cringing a little. “I mean, today didn’t go to plan…like, at _all._ But…I guess it’s fine? I don’t know what it means that Alya didn’t meet the kwami of the Fox Miraculous, though…what does that mean, when that happens?” He frowned. “You don’t think…it can’t be a fake, right? Volpina’s was fake, but Master Fu would _definitely_ be able to tell the real thing from a fake, right?”

“Of course,” Wayzz confirmed with a nod of his bulbous head. This confirmation only increased Nino’s confusion, however.

“Then what the hell? Why didn’t it appear? Kwamis can’t really _choose_ not to appear in front of their Chosen, right? Or did it not appear because I wasn’t _planning_ to Choose Alya? Or—”

“Nino!” Wayzz interrupted, his tiny hands touching patting Nino’s nose to get his attention and pull him out of his bewildered mental spiral. As Nino focused on Wayzz, the kwami took a deep breath. “To borrow from your vernacular, you need to ‘chill out, dude’.” Nino snorted, unable to help himself; hearing Wayzz use slang was all kinds of silly. Wayzz waited until Nino had settled down before he continued, “Don’t forget: you are not alone in this endeavor. If you seek answers, you know where you can find them.”

“Master Fu,” Nino said, and then grimaced. “Right…”

“Something wrong?”

Nino huffed, nudging his glasses higher up his nose and scratching the back of his head.

“I just…” he paused, sighing. “I fucked up, Wayzz. I had _one_ job today, and I messed it up so bad. I…kind of don’t want to tell anyone about it, least of all Master Fu. I…I feel like he’ll be disappointed. Like…”

‘ _Like he’ll start to think he made the wrong choice in the new Guardian…_ ’

Wayzz’s miniscule brow puckered at Nino.

“Do you truly believe that Fu has never made a mistake, with how long he has lived? He did not begin as wise and patient as he is now, Nino. In his youth, he was a very brash and arrogant man, so much so that working with him was a struggle from time to time.”

Wayzz shook his head, as if to rid himself of some annoying memory.

“Do not be so hard on yourself, Nino. While you might not have intended for the Fox Miraculous to fall into the hands of your fiancée, I do not believe it was a bad choice, even if it was accidental.”

Nino glanced up, at the window on the fourth floor he knew to be the one that peeked into Alya’s living room. He couldn’t see her, of course—she would have to be leaning out the window for that to be possible—but he still drew comfort just from seeing the light on in there, glowing as the sun’s rays began to fade from the world, giving way to the winter night.

While it was true that Nino never intended to make Alya Miraculous, simply for the reason that he didn’t want to see her hurt…it was also true that she had been his _first_ thought when he had selected the Fox Miraculous to gift to someone. And now that she had it, he couldn’t _not_ see her as the Fox Miraculous wielder now, dressed in orange, with the wooden flute that was the Fox Miraculous’ weapon, or at least that’s what Volpina made it seem like; maybe it would change, now that the authentic Fox Miraculous was out and about…

...Actually… _could_ it be considered ‘out and about’ when the kwami of the Fox Miraculous apparently hadn’t revealed itself to Alya yet…?

Nino sighed. His head was starting to hurt.

“Back in my pocket,” Nino directed Wayzz, carefully shielding the kwami from view as he lowered his hands. “I need to call Master Fu and see what’s up with this weird situation.”

“Of course,” Wayzz obliged, zipping back into Nino’s pocket. He nestled himself there, taking warmth from his Chosen’s coat pocket. Through the gap in the pocket, he, too, stared at Alya’s window for a moment, watching the light glowing within.

Strange…he could have sworn, while they were inside Alya’s apartment, that the Fox Miraculous was active…but he only felt it for a moment before the feeling disappeared.

What that meant, exactly, he did not know. But he didn’t intend to bring it up, either, at least, not until Nino had a chance to speak with Fu. His poor Chosen was already confused enough as it was.

 

* * *

 

Alya waited until she heard the click of her front door shutting. She let out a breath as she ventured further down the hall, into her bedroom. There, another Alya was waiting, but this one was clad in an orange and white superhero suit, fox ears pointing up from atop her head and an orange and black lined mask over her eyes. With a careful hand, she waved through the casual-looking Alya, and the image dispersed in a cloud of orange smoke.

“Cool,” Alya breathed, tapping the fox tail pendant she wore with a finger. “Trixx: revert me!”

The transformation was undone, and a tiny fox-like creature appeared, her plum eyes bright and her grin mischievous. Alya watched in her mirror’s reflection as the kwami flew upwards, settling atop her red hair.

“So? How’d I do?”

“Not bad for a rookie,” Trixx giggled, rolling over onto her back so that she grinned at Alya’s reflection while upside down. “The jig would’ve been up if your tod had tried to kiss you, though. Oooh, how funny would it have been to see his face if you suddenly exploded into orange dust!”

“Why do you think I played the ring tone on my phone?” Alya asked, lifting her phone for emphasis. “I know Nino, and Nino knows me: if I’m really busy, he does his best not to bother me, because he knows how insane about work I can get.”

Trixx rolled over again—she seemed intent upon making a mess of Alya’s hair—and propped her furry little head up with her tiny paws, her little tail swishing back and forth, her smirk only growing more and more impish by the second.

“So how long are we gonna play this game?”

Alya gave an easygoing shrug.

“I don’t know. On the one hand, it seems kind of mean to act like I don’t know what’s going on, now that he’s given me a Miraculous…” Alya quirked an eyebrow at her reflection. “But after the weird way he decided to give me this Miraculous without explaining anything? I feel like being mean for just a _little_ while longer.”

Trixx stuck out her tiny little tongue.

“I admit, it was kinda boring, the way you just accepted your fate without question. Usually I at _least_ get a yelp of surprise from my Chosen kits before we spring into action.”

Alya laughed.

“That you can blame on my friends, and the fact that they’re not as slick as they think they are.”

“And they _really_ have no clue that you know?”

“Nope.” Alya paused. “Well, Adrien does, but that’s because we kind of ran into each other right after he de-transformed. But Nino and Marinette have no idea.”

“Hmmm,” Trixx hummed, suddenly looking dubious. “I don’t know if I wanna join a superhero group that’s really that clueless.”

“But that’s why they _need_ us,” Alya insisted, reaching up to try and herd Trixx off her head, but the sneaky little fox kwami just buried herself deeper in Alya’s thick locks, grinning at her in a self-satisfied way when Alya gave a huff. “I’ve been doing all I can to watch their backs as a civilian, but as a fellow superhero? I’m betting my capabilities will increase two-fold. Whether they know it or not, they could use someone like me on their team.”

“Well, before we start talking about team stuff, you _definitely_ need an alias first,” Trixx insisted, draping Alya’s hair over herself, as if it were a luxurious red dress, and posing in the mirror. Alya snorted at the silly creature. “Your friends may suck at it, but keeping a secret identity _is_ important.”

“Right…” Alya trailed off, frowning at herself in the mirror. A superhero name, huh…

“What was the name of that imposter fox you mentioned earlier? Volpina?”

Alya shook her head.

“I’m not adopting the name of a phony. That would just give the wrong impression, and I’m pretty sure Marinette would hate it.”

Trixx stretched out across Alya’s shoulder, still wrapped in her hair, posing seductively for no apparent reason other than to amuse herself.

“Well what do you propose, my street-wise kit?”

“Are you really going to refer to me and people around me with fox terms from now on?”

Trixx kicked one of her little legs into the air, twirling a strand of Alya’s red hair around and around in one of her paws.

“And why wouldn’t I? I’m the kwami of the _Fox_ Miraculous, you know.”

Alya smirked at the creature on her shoulder.

“And what are you doing? My hair’s not a toy, you know?”

Trixx quite ignored this statement, rubbing her face against a strand of Alya’s hair.

“Mmm, I _love_ the color red. It’s such a sexy color, you know?”

Alya tried to shake the kwami loose from her hair, but Trixx clung on, and Alya cringed as a couple strands of her hair were separated from her scalp.

“Sexy or not, red hair wrapped around you does _not_ a vixen make, Trixx.”

Kwami and Chosen paused, staring at each other for a moment, their lips curving into nearly identical smiles.

“Vixen,” Trixx drawled, and Alya grinned at how _pleased_ her kwami looked.

“Vixen,” Alya agreed, facing her reflection once again.

“Vixen, the foxy superhero Paris deserves!” Trixx declared, a paw raised dramatically. Alya rolled her eyes, amused, and put a finger on Trixx’s paw, lowering it.

“But not the one it needs right now,” she decided. Trixx’s face went into full-blown pout mode.

“Why not?”

“Because…” Alya paused, tilting her head to the side as her brow furrowed. “…I feel like the superheroes of Paris have enough to deal with right now. Even if I wasn’t in the room, I could tell that Nino was acting really weird. He’s stressed out about something, which might be why he didn’t bother explaining his ‘gift’ to me…” Her frown deepened. “In fact, from the way he was acting…it might be that he didn’t mean to give the Fox Miraculous to me at all.”

Now that she thought on it…he had been _incredibly_ specific earlier today over which pocket of his bag she should be looking into, almost as if he was afraid she would find something she wasn’t supposed to find if she looked anywhere else…

But the Fox Miraculous was in the pocket he had directed her to, so, what did that mean? Did he mistake which pocket he meant Alya to look in? Or did he start having second thoughts at the last minute?

“You mean to tell me that we’re just gonna sit quietly and let everybody else have all the fun?” Came Trixx’s complaining voice from out of nowhere, intruding upon Alya’s thoughts. She rolled her eyes again and smirked at the kwami’s reflection.

“I didn’t say that. You said it yourself: Paris needs us. Just…not right now. Or not up front, anyway.”

Trixx’s face puckered further, and Alya let out a laugh over how adorable this silly creature was.

“Whaddya mean, ‘not up front’? If we’re not helping to save Paris, what’re we supposed to be doing?”

Alya’s gaze went to the black T.V. screen in her bedroom. She almost always had the news on nowadays, just to keep tabs on her friends and the trouble they had to deal with, in between akuma attacks, hate groups, and rebellious civilians…and lately, it seemed like the latter was causing the most ruckus.

Alya felt her brow quirk as she ran a thumb under the fine chain of her Miraculous.

“I might have an idea or two…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...It feels like everything and nothing happened in this chapter at the same time.
> 
> Also, I love Trixx already~
> 
> Happy holidays, guys! Peace and love on earth, plus all the shit you asked your parents and loved ones for, no matter what holiday you celebrate. Love you guys~ Thanks, as always, for reading!! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	29. Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELCOME BACK, BITCHES.
> 
> Have a shorter than usual chapter while I tug at a string or two of the complicated web that is this fic. @_@
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

Alya let out a low whistle, getting to her feet as she watched her ex-supermodel friend approach her claimed table in the comic book store.

“Damn, Agreste! You clean up good!”

Adrien chuckled, looking a little self-conscious as he ran a hand through his freshly cut hair, blonde strands only long enough to rest against the nape of his neck, now.

“Yeah, well…I figured it was time.”

“ _Way_ past time,” teased Alya, reaching up to ruffle his perfectly coiffed locks. Adrien dodged her hand, carefully arranging his hair again as she giggled at him. “I know some women are into that, but I personally think that long hair was getting ridiculous.” Her smirk grew mischievous. “I’m sure your girlfriend will appreciate the change, too—your hair will stop getting in the way of you two making out.”

Alya smirked as Adrien abruptly turned a bright shade of red.

“Wha—I—how do you—”

“Best friend,” Alya answered before the poor sap could finish trying to get the question out, pointing at herself as her smirk widened. “Therefore, I have access to certain privileged information. Kissing techniques, for example. Good job on the neck kisses, by the way. Apparently, you’re _really_ good at it—”

“Alya,” Adrien mumbled, now looking totally mortified. Rather than be concerned by his embarrassment, Alya cracked up laughing instead.

“You are too easy to tease,” she ribbed him, resuming her seat as he sat down across the table from her, making a face at her. “Anyway, I know you only have a minute or two, since things are crazy busy for you right now. I just wanted to touch base, see how you were holding up.”

“Oh,” said Adrien, and Alya noted his apparent surprise with amusement. “Well…thanks. Uh, things right now are busy, sure, but there’s only two more days before everything kicks off, so it’s all last-minute checks over every little detail at this point—”

“Adrien,” Alya cut in, holding up her hand and making a face at him, “I didn’t come here to talk fashion with you. I was talking about your _other_ job.”

“Oh,” Adrien muttered, his eyes widening in understanding. Alya began to frown as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well…that’s, uh, going…”

“I saw on the news that a couple more AVA members were sent to the hospital with serious injuries,” Alya remarked, reading the darkness that entered Adrien’s eyes. “Seriously, are you guys okay?”

Adrien released a sigh that seemed to come from somewhere deep within his soul.

“…I don’t know,” he admitted, and there was no small amount of bitterness in his tone. “We’ve been doing all we can but…they just won’t listen. And each AVA member that gets put out of commission only seems to fire them up _more._ It’s ridiculous.”

Alya frowned. It was just as she thought—AVA was becoming more problematic to deal with than the AAT, perhaps because their cause was more easily sympathized with. And, judging from the exhaustion in Adrien’s face—exhaustion that matched Marinette’s and Nino’s, Alya couldn’t help but notice—he and his superhero team were no closer to a solution than they were when AVA first showed up…

“What if I help?” Alya offered, simply because it pained her to see how much this was weighing on her friends and fiancé while she seemed to be stuck on the sidelines.

Adrien glanced up at her in surprise, his golden brows furrowing.

“…Help?” He repeated, as if the term was foreign to him. Alya resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Yes, ‘help’. What, do I need a costume to help you guys out? Is this a ‘club members only’ deal?”

“No, no,” Adrien assured her with a shake of his head, “I’m not saying that. I’m glad you want to help, but…I’m not exactly sure if there’s anything—”

“Are you underestimating me, Agreste?” Alya asked in a honeyed tone that hinted immediately at danger. Adrien picked up on that immediately, and his eyes widened as he raised his hands in surrender.

“No! No, I’m not, Alya, I just mean—”

“I’m _kidding,_ ” Alya assured him with a mischievous snicker, grinning as Adrien’s shoulders relaxed. “God, you’re fun to mess with.”

Adrien sighed, massaging the sides of his head with two fingers.

“Alya, my nerves are kind of shot right now. I don’t have time for games.”

“Sorry,” Alya replied, her grin becoming apologetic. “I’m serious about helping, though. AVA’s all about recruiting former akumatized victims, right? Well, I was one of the originals—Lady Wi-Fi, remember? Oh wait, of course you do.” Alya gave Adrien a flat look. “You were quick to throw it in my face when you were in your ‘edgelord’ phase.”

Adrien cringed.

“I’m really sorry about that, Alya.”

“I know. I’ll forgive you…eventually,” she teased, unable to help herself. But Adrien looked so much like an abandoned kitten that she couldn’t help but laugh. “Relax, Agreste, we’re square. Seriously, though, what do you think? Personally, I think I’d be pretty good at an inside job, but I wanted to get the insight of someone who has to deal with all this nonsense on a constant basis.”

As Alya picked up her travel mug and sipped at her tea, she watched as Adrien leaned back in his seat, stroking his jaw thoughtfully, his eyes closed in concentration. The furrow of his brow suggested he was in deep thought; Alya waited, idly running a finger along the thin chain around her neck before Adrien’s eyes finally re-opened, and he met her gaze.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he answered at last.

Alya snorted. She knew he would say that.

“And why not?” She wanted to know, raising a challenging eyebrow. Cringing, Adrien raised his hands again, as if he expected her to lunge across the table at him.

“I’m not saying I don’t think you can do it,” he prefaced before his expression became serious. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea to go running around with a group that gets itself into danger every other day. I know Mari wouldn’t like it if she knew what you were planning, and Nino would _definitely_ hate it.”

“Who says they have to know, though?”

Adrien gave Alya a deadpan stare.

“Alya, it would be too easy for Nino or Marinette to recognize you, if they ever came across one of the AVA rallies. A little make-up over your eyes won’t really hide your identity.”

Oh, the irony. It was almost physical pain.

Alya bit her tongue to keep herself from pointing out the obvious—that Adrien _still_ had no idea that his superhero squad was comprised of his best friend and his girlfriend—and gave a nod.

“That’s true, I guess.” She frowned, resting her chin in her hand. “Well, the last thing I want to do is make them panic…and I’d probably have to be more of a pain than help at first, just to get Alix and them to trust me…and Nino and Marinette _definitely_ wouldn’t like this plan.”

“So you see my point,” Adrien concluded with a shrug and a frown. A beeping sound came from his pocket, and he pulled out his phone, cringing as she stood up. “I gotta go. Thanks for the offer, Alya. I wish you could help, too…but I really think it’d be better for you to just sit this one out.”

“If you say so,” Alya sighed. Adrien patted her shoulder as he passed, smiling at her in an assuring fashion before he left, phone already at his ear. Alya let out a breath and sat back, her hands folded under her chin. There was a rustling underneath her hair, and a little voice was suddenly at her ear.

“Why were you asking permission from the kitty cat? I didn’t know you were planning on telling anyone what you were up to.”

Alya lifted her travel mug to hide the movement of her lips as she muttered back to Trixx:

“I was more or less trying to gauge where they were on the whole AVA issue. Doesn’t sound like it’s getting any better to me. It’d definitely be dangerous for me to get involved right now.”

“But you’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah. Just not as Wi-Fi.”

“And how’re you gonna get in with the in crowd if you’re not gonna pretend to be one of ‘em?”

Alya sipped at her tea, the gears of her logical mind whirring double-time to accommodate for the new ability of magic on her side. So many possibilities to consider…she would have to plan this carefully…

“Don’t worry—I’ll figure something out.”

 

* * *

 

Nino’s mouth came open with a pop after he entered the _Boulangerie Patisserie,_ greeted Marinette’s parents, approached the counter she was working behind, and got a good look at her ears.

“Yoooo,” he laughed in surprise, leaning forward as Marinette wrapped up some beignets to go for the man in front of the register. “You actually did it! You got second piercings!”

“Shhh,” Marinette hushed him, looking harried as she rushed to bag the next set of pastries. “It’s not a big deal, Nino.”

Nino snorted to himself as he watched her run her hands self-consciously across her earlobes, a little smile playing across her lips. Despite the assertion of it ‘not being a big deal’, she seemed pretty happy about the development anyway.

“Adrien will be happy to see you’re finally wearing his earrings,” he teased, watching Marinette blush as she fumbled one of the pastries she was handling. She managed to catch it at the last minute, apologizing profusely to the customer, who took it in stride and paid the proper euros before leaving with a smile. Marinette let out a breath, frowning over at Nino.

“Will you stop distracting me? I’m trying to work here.”

“Actually, Marinette, isn’t it time for you to leave?” Tom cut in, glancing at the clock in the bakery. “You have a meeting for something or another concerning your spring line, don’t you?”

Marinette glanced at the clock, and then let out a squeak that had Nino chuckling.

“Ah, you’re right! Sorry, Papa, I have to go!”

“Go on, then, get out of here,” Tom insisted, smiling behind his mustache as he gently shooed Marinette away from the register, taking the apron she removed. “Make us proud, Marinette.”

“Bye, Marinette!” Called Sabine’s voice from the back room.

“Bye, Mama!” Marinette called before she stretched onto her toes to kiss her father’s cheek. “Bye, Papa! See you later! Come on, Nino, I’ll drive you home.”

As Marinette pulled on her coat and dashed by, she grabbed Nino’s wrist and yanked him along after her, leaving him to call a hasty goodbye to her parents before they were out on the street. Marinette shivered in the cold, quickly unlocking her car and jumping into the driver’s seat. Laughing to himself, Nino followed her into the vehicle, watching as she started the car immediately and set the heat on full blast.

“What’s up, Nino?” Marinette asked him as she fiddled with the heat controls on her car. “Did you stop by because you needed something?”

“Well, it was partially because I was in the neighborhood and wanted to see how you were doing,” Nino said, taking in Marinette’s appearance. “You and Adrien both look like you’ve stopped sleeping.”

Marinette sighed, her forehead hitting the steering wheel.

“It’ll all be over soon,” she insisted, rubbing at her tired-looking bluebell eyes. “Once the ball gets rolling, things should go smoothly from that point forward.”

“Isn’t Fashion Week, like…a whole week, though?”

“Well, yes,” Marinette admitted, her lower lip jutting out. “But my line premiers on Wednesday, hence all the fuss. Other lines will be shown throughout the week; I just have to worry about Wednesday at this point.”

“Good luck,” Nino bade as Marinette seemed to decide that it was warm enough to drive; she put the car in drive and pulled out into the street. “I also stopped by to remind you about our meeting with City Hall tonight.”

Marinette groaned.

“Is that tonight?”

“Yep. Time to try and coordinate with the government to see if they can figure out a way to stop AVA, other than jailing them for disturbing the peace, which isn’t really a solution at all, either.”

Marinette sighed, the sound defeated. Nino sympathized completely. Poor thing had far too much on her plate right now.

“Okay…I’ll try and get away from Fashion Week stuff as fast as I can…I’ll meet you and Chat there, all right?”

“Chat Noir isn’t going to be there,” Nino reminded Marinette as they drove through the street, the day coming to a rapid conclusion as the sky began to darken. “He said he’d be too busy with some other stuff this week, remember?”

An odd look crossed Marinette’s face at this reminder; Nino watched, raising an eyebrow as she inexplicably reached up to touch one of her pink sapphire earrings, attached just above her Ladybug Miraculous. It was still kind of amazing to Nino that she actually chose to get second piercings in her ears just to accommodate Adrien’s earrings. She must really care about him…but it wasn’t like this was news to Nino. Still, what was she thinking about that made her look like that…?

“Oh…right,” was all she ended up saying, however; Nino expected more, but was soon disappointed when, in the next moment, they had pulled up to his apartment. “Well…then I’ll just meet you at City Hall tonight.”

“Good deal,” Nino replied, opening the car door. “See you later, then—”

“Oh, Nino, wait!” Marinette stalled him, a hand on his arm to keep him in the car. “I’ve been meaning to ask you: how’s your search for a new Miraculous holder going?”

Nino tensed. Oh boy, he had really been hoping she would be too busy to ask him this…

“Oh…uh, actually, I have to talk to you about that, Marinette,” he admitted, ducking his head in shame. Marinette’s hand tightened on his arm, and he glanced over, his guilt increasing when he saw the concern in his friend’s gaze.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

‘Something happening’ was probably putting it mildly…but Nino glanced at the clock and shook his head.

“I don’t think we really have the time to get into it right now,” he reasoned, shaking his arm loose from her grasp. “You have somewhere to be, and this conversation…well, you have enough on your plate already.”

This did not seem to assuage Marinette’s concern; if anything, her frown grew more pronounced.

“Nino, what happened?”

“It’s not something you need to worry about right now.”

“But—”

“Seriously, ‘Nette,” Nino interrupted, getting out of her car, “go handle your business. We can talk about it later. It’s not like it needs immediate attention right now, just…well, we’ll have to have a conversation later, all right?”

“…Okay,” Marinette let it go, though she still looked worried. “I’ll see you later, Nino.”

“Bye. Good luck!”

Marinette waved as she drove off, and Nino stood on the sidewalk, watching her pink Bug until it disappeared. As he scratched the back of his head, he felt something wriggling around in his coat pocket, and Wayzz appeared. Immediately, Nino scooped the kwami into the collar of his coat, where he could be hidden and warm while saying whatever it was he popped out to say.

“Are you worried about telling Marinette what happened?” He inquired once he had settled into his new hiding space. Nino gave a shrug, turning to head into his building.

“A little. Still more worried about the fact that Alya’s kwami apparently hasn’t woken up or anything. It’s been two days, and nothing. What gives?”

“What did Fu say?”

Nino sighed as he recited, word for word, what wisdom the old master had to offer him:

“‘The Fox Miraculous is genuine, though why it is still dormant is a mystery. Still, as of yet, there is no cause for alarm. Give it time.’ ‘Kay, great, but how _much_ time should I give it before I’m allowed to freak out for real? This situation is _not_ the norm, from what I’ve been told.”

“True,” Wayzz agreed, and Nino had to stifle his groan as he climbed the stairs to the second floor. “But strange things regarding the Miraculous occur often, Nino. I would not start losing sleep over it just yet.”

Nino snorted.

“Why not? None of my friends are sleeping,” he pointed out with a shake of his head as he reached the second floor landing, fishing his apartment key out of his pocket. “They’re both trying to hide it, but both Adrien and ‘Nette look like this Fashion Week thing is kicking their asses. And ‘Nette has to deal with Ladybug stuff too…I feel bad for her.”

Briefly, Nino pondered over the strange look that crossed Marinette’s face at the mention of Chat Noir. He only glimpsed it briefly while in the car, but now that he was pondering over it, he was beginning to realize why he found it so strange: it was like Marinette was unsurprised at the reminder that Chat was apparently too busy to moonlight with them this week, as if she knew the reason for his absence. But of course, that was impossible—he hadn’t bothered to explain _why_ he would be busy, just that he would be. Nino must be misreading the memory of Marinette’s expression—

“Nino! You’re home!”

Nino turned in time for Kira to fly into his legs; he hastily steadied himself, laughing as he patted her head.

“Hey, kid! Long time no see, huh?”

Kira pulled back to pout at Nino, and it was with no small amount of relief that he saw that her eyepatch was finally gone, leaving both of those sparkling brown eyes as bright and happy as they should be. He was so glad.

“That’s ‘cause you’re always busy now!” She accused him, and Nino grinned apologetically.

“I’m sorry, Short Stuff. Being an adult is hard sometimes.”

“Then I _never_ wanna grow up,” Kira announced, making Nino laugh.

“Good call.”

“Are you busy tonight? Me and _Baa-chan_ want you to come over for dinner! Please say yes! _Pleaaaase?_ ”

“Oh no…the puppy eyes!” Nino cried dramatically, pretending to shield his face from Kira’s pleading stare. “My one weakness…! Oh, all right. I think I can make time to eat dinner with my favorite neighbors.”

“Yaaaay!” Kira cheered, seizing Nino’s hand and pulling him over to her apartment. “Good, ‘cause we need help! Fish is okay, right?”

The lump in Nino’s coat collar quivered with anticipation, and Nino chuckled.

“Fish sounds perfect, kid.”

 

* * *

 

Ladybug dropped onto the roof of City Hall, hooking her yo-yo around her waist for a moment. Her eyes scanned the surrounding area, searching for any kind of trouble, but so far, all was quiet. Good—she didn’t need to deal with any kind of trouble tonight. Tensions were already running high enough as it was—

“Yo, LB!”

Ladybug whirled around, the turn sharper than she meant it to be. It was so stupid for her to be this jumpy; she would recognize Emerald Shell’s voice anywhere at this point, so there was absolutely no reason for her heart to pound so hard after he had properly announced himself…

Shell hopped off his hover board and landed beside her, his golden gaze troubled as he took a good look at her.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” Ladybug huffed, pulling out her yo-yo again. “Just wanna get this over with.”

“You think this’ll be a waste of time, then?”

“I really hope not,” Ladybug answered, sending out her yo-yo as she gave Shell a flat look. “I could be sleeping right now. So, if it turns out we can’t find a solution to our AVA problem, I’m going to get really cranky.”

“Hang in there, LB,” Shell encouraged as they both jumped from the roof, landing separately on the stairs leading to City Hall. As Ladybug once again put away her yo-yo and Shell slid his hover shield onto his back, a door opened behind them. They turned in unison to find the deputy mayor approaching, looking relieved.

“Thank you so much for coming,” she said, shaking both their hands. “I’m so grateful you decided to try and work with us for a peaceful solution to the problems troubling Paris lately.”

“Our pleasure, Deputy Mayor Reine,” Ladybug replied politely, working to hide her skepticism. After all, even if she was certain that there probably wasn’t much the government could do about this situation, short of jailing all the troublemakers—which truly would not be helpful, as Nino said earlier—the fact that they were actually trying to reach a peaceful conclusion went a long way, in Ladybug’s book.

The deputy mayor smiled, her bright blue eyes sparkling.

“Please, call me Bridgette,” she requested. Ladybug blinked, unsure of whether or not she was comfortable with that—it seemed a tad unprofessional—but given the fact that Deputy Mayor Reine—Bridgette—seemed only a couple years older than her, maybe it wasn’t so strange…?

“So, Bridgette,” Shell said, seeming to take the name change in stride, offering her a grin, “you gonna invite us in or what?”

“Shell,” Ladybug hissed, but Bridgette laughed.

“Oh, of course! Sorry, you two must be cold.”

“Not really,” Shell replied, sauntering in behind the deputy mayor, with Ladybug frowning disapprovingly at his back as she brought up the rear. “Magic makes things like freezing weather a little more bearable.”

“Oh,” Bridgette said with a surprised blink of her blue eyes. “I see.”

She didn’t see, that much was obvious. But it was understandable: not many people knew much about how the Miraculous worked, and for safety reasons, it was better off that way. Still, Ladybug nudged Shell’s side, warning him with her eyes to settle down as they followed Bridgette through City Hall.

“By the way,” she spoke up, glancing curiously behind her at the pair of superheroes following in her wake, “Is Chat Noir not joining us tonight?”

“Oh…he’s occupied with other things tonight,” Ladybug explained, distracted by the coloring of Bridgette’s cheeks as she turned to face forward once again.

“Oh, I see. What a shame.”

Ladybug and Emerald Shell exchanged glances, their brows raised. While Shell seemed to shrug it off a moment later, Ladybug turned to stare at Bridgette’s back. Odd…it could be that she was just imagining it, or reading too much into the situation…but from where she stood, it kind of seemed like—

“Deputy Mayor Reine, do you have a moment?”

Ladybug halted in her tracks, her mouth coming open with a pop.

No…she _had_ to be imagining that voice…

Sadly, as soon as she turned around, her worst fears were confirmed as that tall blonde with the perpetual poker face approached, clipboard in hand.

Felix.

“You!” Ladybug snarled, quite forgetting that she was Ladybug at the moment. Even so, however, Felix responded to her the way he always did when she was Marinette: by raising an eyebrow. Other than his poker face, it seemed to be his default expression for everything.

“...Is there something wrong, Ladybug?” He wanted to know. Ladybug jolted and cringed, realizing that both Bridgette and Shell were giving her strange looks.

“Oh…sorry,” she replied, forcing the apology through her teeth as well as a polite smile on her lips. “You…I thought you were someone else, that’s all. Excuse me.”

Bridgette recovered the fastest from Ladybug’s slip, stepping around her to approach Felix. (Ladybug had to battle the urge to shield her from Felix, though he hadn’t proven that he was doing anything wrong at the moment…)

“Do you need something, _Mon._ Chevalier?”

‘Chevalier’? _That_ was Felix’s last name? Ladybug had to fight the urge to snort, pressing a hand to her lips as Felix handed the clipboard over to the deputy mayor.

“These need the mayor’s signature,” he said as Bridgette quickly glanced through the documents attached to the clipboard. “I’ll have them filed as soon as he’s finished with them.”

“I see. I’ll see that he gets them, then. Thank you,” Bridgette replied, giving Felix a smile before she turned away, resuming her quick pace. “This way please, Ladybug, Emerald Shell.”

Ladybug began to follow Shell…but the sudden flush on Felix’s face brought her up short once again, staring at him with wide eyes. Whoa…was he _blushing?_ Why was he…?

Felix was not looking at her; his cool gaze was focused on the deputy mayor’s back as she walked away. Ladybug only needed to register this fact before the pieces clicked into place.

Her mouth came open with a pop, this new information flooding her with _glee._

“Oh my god…you _like_ her!” She whispered, her amusement increasing ten-fold when Felix actually looked _startled_ at her observation, his pale face turning even redder. Oh no…he was _adorable!_

“Wh…I do not!” He protested, looking away as he brushed his mouth with the back of his hand, clearly uncomfortable. Grinning now, Ladybug bounced back into his line of sight, taking pleasure in just how _awkward_ he was. She could not believe it—Felix Chevalier, shady, stoic thorn in her side, had an honest-to-god _crush_ on the _deputy mayor_ of Paris! Oh, this was _amazing._

“You do so!” She gloated, and Felix glared at her.

“Mind your own business,” he insisted, turning sharply on his heel and striding quickly in the other direction. Ladybug took another minute to smirk after him—she was going to have _so much fun_ with this information—before Emerald Shell called for her to hurry up.

“What were you doing?” He wanted to know as she caught up with them, entering a swanky meeting room, completely with plush leather swivel chairs and a shining mahogany table that could seat twenty comfortably. Ladybug worked to rearrange her features so that she wouldn’t appear too amused.

“Nothing. Just found out something funny about Felix.”

Shell glanced out into the hallway again, frowning.

“He’s Adrien’s cousin, isn’t he? What’s he doing at City Hall? Didn’t you say he works for your old boss?”

Ladybug shrugged, though this reminder caused her to frown as well.

“I don’t know…maybe he decided he wanted to move up in the world.”

Though, now that she thought about it…it _was_ pretty suspicious that he was suddenly working in City Hall after a career in fashion, wasn’t it…?

“Huh. Well, speaking of moving up, the mayor’s waiting for us.”

Ladybug followed Shell’s directing thumb to the head of the table in the meeting room, where a portly man she had only seen on T.V. sat, arguing with someone on his phone.

“No, I said that we _shouldn’t_ hear him out, weren’t you listening? Don’t you follow the news at all? He’s a madman! How did someone like _that_ even get elected to run a country? Not now,” he huffed, holding up a finger when Bridgette tried to interrupt, Felix’s clipboard outstretched.

“Sir, these documents need your signature.”

“Can’t you take care of it? I’m in the middle of an important call,” Mayor Fantoche insisted, turning his chair around to give Bridgette his back. He looked like he meant to return to his call, but then he spotted Ladybug and Emerald Shell, and he blinked for several moments, appearing startled.

“What’re they doing here?” He demanded of Bridgette, pressing his cell phone into his shoulder and staring at her, waiting for some kind of explanation. Bridgette tilted her head, frowning at him.

“Sir, you asked to see them. Remember? You asked me to schedule a meeting with Paris’ superheroes to see what could be done about the group known as Akumatized Victims Anonymous?”

“Was that tonight? Why wasn’t I reminded?”

“I left a note on your desk, sir. I even called you at dinner to confirm it—”

“Well tonight’s not a good night, I’m in the middle of a very important call,” the mayor insisted, drumming his fingers on his desk as he scowled at Bridgette. “We’ll just have to reschedule—”

“Dude, with all due respect, it’s not like we’re free to always answer your summons,” Shell spoke up, folding his arms as he quirked a brow at Mayor Fantoche. “We may be superheroes, but we have lives, too. Even Superman has to be Clark Kent sometimes, you know?”

The mayor frowned, appearing to not appreciate that he was being inconvenienced in this manner.

“Fine. Reine, handle this without me. I’ll expect a briefing in the morning,” he ordered, getting up from the chair and brushing past the superheroes to exit the room, phone raised to his ear immediately as he resumed his argument with whoever was on the other line. Once he was gone, Bridgette sighed.

“I’m so sorry about that,” she apologized, ruffling her short hair as she took the mayor’s spot at the head of the table. “He’s a very busy man, you see—”

“Even so, I was under the impression that this meeting was his idea,” Ladybug commented as she and Shell approached the table, taking seats on either side of Bridgette. She frowned at the tired-looking deputy mayor, feeling pity swell within her. Talk about a nightmare boss… “Isn’t it…well, rude of him to leave it up to you?”

Bridgette gave Ladybug a helpless smile.

“Well, actually…this meeting was my idea,” she confided, looking a tad guilty. “He thought it was a good idea, so he approved it—”

“You mean he took credit for it,” Shell corrected with a dry look. Bridgette cleared her throat, though it looked to Ladybug like she was trying not to smile.

“In any case,” she moved on, and Ladybug was impressed by her professionalism, “I really would like your opinions on what to do about the activities of the group known as AVA. Frankly, the Anti-Akuma Taskforce is much easier to deal with, simply because our police force has no qualms about imprisoning them for their terrorist actions. But with AVA…”

“It seems wrong somehow,” finished Shell with a grave nod. “Tell us about it.”

“Still,” Ladybug jumped in, “we can’t let them continue like this. The protests are blocking traffic, they get into constant fights with AAT members, getting themselves put in the hospital, and the graffiti’s _more_ than insulting—”

“That graffiti only involves Chat Noir,” Shell pointed out, only to raise his hands in a placating manner when Ladybug gave him a seething look.

“Chat Noir is part of Team Miraculous,” she reminded him through gritted teeth. “If he’s getting disrespected, we’re _all_ getting disrespected.”

“All right, all right, don’t tear my head off,” Shell grumbled, lowering his hands only when Ladybug looked away from him with a huff. “You do have a point—it’s not like they’re exactly listening to us when we tell them to cut it out.”

“So what should we do?” Bridgette asked, looking troubled. “It’s not against the law to protest, nor am I willing to treat it like an offense. But even so, things shouldn’t go on like this. Something needs to change.”

Silence fell in the meeting room as the three of them looked at each other, deliberation in their gazes.

As was his habit, it was Emerald Shell who broke the silence first.

“Well…what are their demands? Their goal is to battle the AAT to stop the persecution of akumatized victims, right?”

“I guess?” Ladybug answered, though she frowned as she realized that…well, she had never actually paid attention to the demands of AVA before. All she knew was that they were causing a ruckus and it had to stop, somehow. But now that Shell was bringing up their troublemaking as a legitimate cry for help…

“Well, why don’t we help them, then?” Shell suggested.

Ladybug gaped at him. Surely he couldn’t be serious…?

“We can’t do that!” She protested once she realized that Shell was, indeed, very serious. “We can’t take sides!”

“Why not? It’s no secret that we’re not on AAT’s side, right?” Shell countered, folding his arms, his brows furrowing over his goggles. “‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend’, right?”

“It’s not that simple,” Ladybug protested, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she huffed. “AVA doesn’t want any more to do with us than the AAT does.”

“But maybe that’s because we haven’t been sympathetic to their cause. Hear me out,” Shell insisted as Ladybug opened her mouth to talk him down. She shut it, frowning at him as he leaned back in his swivel chair, pressing the tips of his fingers together as a thoughtful frown crossed his face. “The whole reason AVA formed is because they felt like no one was on their side. With a group like the AAT around, it was hard to find support for them. So they banded together to make themselves feel safe, and then mobilized to battle the AAT to take back their safety.”

“That’s _our_ job,” Ladybug grumbled, hating how petulant she sounded. Shell didn’t look too happy about it either, but he could only give a half shrug.

“I know, LB. But apparently we weren’t doing a very good job, if they decided they needed to take matters into their own hands. So we need to deal with that and move on.”

Ladybug sighed. As much as she didn’t want to admit to failure…

“Fine,” she grumbled, crossing her arms and trying not to pout. “So where do we go from here?”

“I might have an idea,” Bridgette interjected, tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her ear as she frowned thoughtfully into the distance. “What if we start a unity campaign?”

“A unity campaign?” Ladybug echoed, unsure of where the deputy mayor was going with this. She blinked herself out of whatever reverie had seized her and focused her attention on the two heroes.

“Yes. There’s so much hate tearing the city—no, all of France—apart.” Bridgette’s eyes tightened, as if it pained her to acknowledge such a fact. “And most of it is based on ignorance. With a new supervillain, people are terrified, and quick to blame anything that’s easy to attack, rather than the actual problem itself. That’s how fearmongering works, isn’t it?”

“Spoken like a true politician,” Shell joked. Ladybug scowled at him, worried Bridgette would be offended, but she just laughed.

“I suppose,” she allowed, amusement glinting in her blue eyes before she grew serious once again. “This whole time, we’ve been working to suppress the chaos, but it was you, Emerald Shell, who made me stop and realize that we’ve never questioned _why_ this chaos is happening. And I think you bring up a very good point: until we tackle the root of the issue, nothing will be solved.”

Withdrawing a journal and a pen from her blazer, Bridgette opened the nearly full journal to a fresh page, clicked her pen, and started scribbling, speaking only half as fast as her pen moved across the page.

“If we make it clear to the citizens that there are people willing to listen to their problems—that they are not alone in their fears and their doubts—maybe we can satisfy AVA and shame the AAT enough to disband their activities, respectively.”

“That’s a tall order,” Ladybug couldn’t help but note. Bridgette glanced up, and Ladybug was surprised by the sudden fire that surged in the deputy mayor’s eyes.

“Maybe so,” she allowed, “but in my experiences, nothing is impossible as long as you have the ability and the willpower.” She clicked her pen again and set it down on top of her journal, turning to Shell now. “Emerald Shell, since it was you who suggested it, would you like to be the face of this unity campaign? I know you’ve had your hands full spearheading the efforts to clean the Seine as well, but if you think you can juggle both projects…”

“Oh,” Shell replied, blinking in surprise. “Well, thanks, but, uh, shouldn’t LB be the face of such a campaign? She _is_ the leader of Team Miraculous—”

“I don’t mind if it’s you,” Ladybug assured him with a shake of her head. “Bridgette’s right—you _did_ come up with the idea in the first place.”

“I was just talking, though…” Shell replied, looking embarrassed as he rubbed the back of his hooded head. “Bridgette’s the one who was talking about a unity campaign and all that…”

“Well…what about Chat Noir?” Ladybug suggested, “I don’t want to leave him out of this.”

“Oh,” Bridgette said, and Ladybug noticed immediately when the deputy mayor flushed at the mention of Chat Noir once again. “Well, if you think he’d be best—”

“But half the city still doesn’t trust him, LB,” Shell interrupted with a shake of his head. “Nothing against the dude, really, but I really think it should be you. Out of everyone on this team, you have the most presence and the most sway. People will listen to you the most.”

Ladybug frowned. She wasn’t quite sure if that was true—the memory of the disastrous press conference announcing Chat Noir’s return was still fresh in her mind—but since Shell did already have one government project under his belt, and since he did bring up the very good point that a portion of the city still had misgivings about Chat, despite his best efforts to prove himself, and since she _did_ have this burning desire to restore Paris’ faith in their heroes once again without anyone else having to get injured to fight for what they felt was a losing battle…

“…Then it should be me,” she agreed at last, nodding in affirmation. “I’ll do it.”

Bridgette let out a relieved sigh, smiling at Ladybug.

“Thank you. This will mean a lot. I just hope it works.” Flipping her journal shut, Bridgette stood up. “Well, I don’t want to take up too much of your time tonight. I would like to get the ball rolling on this campaign as soon as the mayor approves it…how might I reach you?”

“Just get a giant skylight with a ladybug symbol to shine in the sky when you need her,” Shell joked, and Ladybug rolled her eyes as she got to her feet as well. Nerd.

“As soon as Mayor Fantoche approves the idea, if you make it official through the news, I’ll meet with you again,” Ladybug told her, shaking Bridgette’s hand when she offered it. “We’ll be watching.”

“Oooh, that sounded so cool,” Shell enthused as he rounded the table, and Ladybug rolled her eyes as she gave him a push towards the door.

“Shut up and let’s go.”

“I’m going, I’m go—oh,” Shell said, coming to an abrupt stop. Ladybug bumped into him, which made her grumpy, but before she could growl at him to move, he said to someone in front of him, “Uh, we were just leaving, dude.”

Ladybug stepped to the side, because she could not possibly see over Shell’s tall frame, and she was annoyed and unsurprised to find Felix there. It also made her suspicious—how long had he been there behind the door? He hadn’t been eavesdropping on their meeting, had he…?

Felix said nothing. He merely stepped to the side, allowing them to pass. Shell moved on without hesitation, but Ladybug paused, frowning up at Felix.

“Since when do you work for City Hall?” She questioned, unable to help herself. It was a mystery that would gnaw at her all night if she didn’t receive some kind of clue for it.

Felix raised an eyebrow at her.

“And how do you know that I haven’t always worked for City Hall, Ladybug?” He countered her question with one of his own.

Ladybug narrowed her eyes. He wasn’t about to get out of this _that_ easily.

“I would have seen you around before.”

“Oh? Do you make frequent visits to City Hall to know that for sure?”

“Oh, he started working here about a week ago, actually,” Bridgette butted in as she approached, bringing Ladybug and Felix’s staring match to a close. “He came highly recommended; his organizational skills are excellent. He’s been a very big help around here.”

Ladybug noticed the reddening of Felix’s face as he looked away from Bridgette’s smile.

“Thank you, Deputy Mayor Reine,” he said quietly, scowling when Ladybug began to snicker. It was still incredibly suspicious that he was here in the first place, but really, she couldn’t not laugh at the situation. Who knew Felix actually had a soft spot? Certainly not her.

“Thanks again, Ladybug,” Bridgette made sure to thank Ladybug as she finally exited the meeting room. “I hope to be in touch with you very soon.”

“Sure.”

As Ladybug walked away, she couldn’t help but pick up on the conversation going on behind her:

“Oh wow, it’s late. I haven’t even had dinner yet…”

“Shall I order something for you, Deputy Mayor Reine?”

“It’s after hours, _Mon._ Chevalier. Bridgette’s fine. And that’s okay—we can just go out to eat somewhere instead.”

“…We?”

“Sure, why not? Unless you’ve already eaten?”

“Oh…no. I haven’t eaten…”

“Then let’s go. My treat.”

“Oh…that won’t be necess—”

“Oh hush, it’s fine. Consider it a reward for your hard work this past week. Come on, let’s see what’s open!”

Ladybug chanced a glance over her shoulder. Bridgette was heading off to the side, her pace less brisk now that she didn’t have to be in ‘deputy mayor’ mode, something of a smile playing across her face. Felix followed a few steps behind her, looking red and awfully rigid. As if he felt her staring, his narrow gaze cut to her and he glared.

‘ _Not a word,_ ’ his expression warned her…but his blush darkening did not help his cause in the slightest. Still, Ladybug said not a word as he passed.

She just grinned widely at him instead.

Oh, the ribbing she would do in her future visits to City Hall…

 

* * *

 

“So on top of everything else I’m doing, now I’m gonna be the face of a unity campaign.” Ladybug sighed, stretching her arms over her head for a moment before she relaxed. “I’m so tired.”

“You look like it, no offense,” Emerald Shell replied, eyeing his friend. The mask might be hiding the circles under her eyes at the moment, but he knew better. On another note, it amused him to see that her new earrings remained even after her transformation. Huh…maybe the Miraculous couldn’t transform other pieces of jewelry like it could transform clothes? He might have to ask Wayzz about it later, if his curiosity on this matter persisted.

Ladybug closed her eyes, slowly shaking her head from side to side.

“I’m going to bed. I’m going to go home, de-transform, and show my bed how much I miss it by falling on top of it, clothes on, and going right to sleep. I’m going to make sweet, sweet love to my bed, and we’re gonna cuddle until the sun comes up tomorrow.”

“Oh my god, you’re so tired you don’t even know what you’re saying anymore,” Shell laughed, snickering even as Ladybug stuck her tongue out at him. “Go on, LB, go home. Get some sleep while you can, because as I understand it, come Wednesday, you’ll be too busy to do anything else.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

Shell watched as Ladybug sent out her yo-yo to loop onto a nearby streetlamp. He took off his shield, ready to see her off before he made his way back home…but then she paused and turned to him, a frown puckering her face.

“Wait—didn’t you have something you needed to tell me? Something about the new Miraculous holder?”

Oh. Right.

Well, he couldn’t keep putting this conversation off, could he? That’s what he thought, at least…but as he looked at Ladybug, the exhaustion clear in her eyes, Shell found yet another reason he didn’t want to have this conversation. Not yet, anyway.

“It’s not something you need to worry about right now, LB,” he assured her when she continued to look concerned. “We’ll talk about it soon, just…not now. Just go home and get some sleep for tonight, all right?”

“Shell—”

“Everything’s under control, I promise,” he cut in, patting her back. “Trust me, okay?”

Ladybug bit her lip, but apparently she was way more tired than she let on, for she sighed and let it go. Poor thing needed a vacation.

“If you say so,” she answered, tugging on the wire of her yo-yo. “Then I’m going home. See you later.”

“Night, LB.”

Shell paused to watch Ladybug swing away; once he was sure she wasn’t about to drop out of the sky due to fatigue, he hopped onto his hover shield and flew off into the night. Somewhere inside, a part of him felt guilty, like he was purposefully hiding his mistake from Ladybug. He honestly wasn’t trying to—it just seemed that Ladybug had too many balls in the air for him to add one more. So, until things died down in her personal life, another concern to add to her superhero life could wait.

Besides, it wasn’t like there was any big rush to tell her about Alya, anyway: as long as her Miraculous remained inexplicably dormant, there was nothing to worry about at all.

 

* * *

 

The sudden figure that landed in the alleyway could not fail to bring the two guards to attention, and they tensed as it straightened up, fixing its dark cloak before it approached. The guards steeled themselves. Though they were convinced they were fighting for a good cause, it still wasn’t fun to witness their comrades in arms be put out of commission in the most violent of ways.

And since they refused to renounce AVA, either of them could be next…

As the figure drew near, one of them found their nerve before the other could.

“Hold it! State your business!” He barked, his muscles tensing, preparing for a fight if need be. The figure under the cloak chuckled softly.

“Relax,” said a feminine voice, raising hands clad in dark brown gloves. “I’m a friend.”

“Prove it,” the other guard demanded, getting into a defensive stance.

The cloaked figure shrugged.

“If you like.”

Moving slowly, the figure lowered the hood of the cloak, revealing large orange fox ears, dark hair that ended in red the lower it went, olive skin and dark green eyes.

“Recognize me?” She asked, smirking at the guards, who exchanged brief, bewildered glances.

“You’re…Volpina, right?” The first guard ventured a guess, remembering vaguely that there was such an akuma that looked like her, once upon a time, though she had been mistaken for a superhero when she first showed up.

Volpina gave them an impish grin.

“That was once my name. Now it’s Vixen, and I’ve made up my mind. I’m ready to join AVA’s cause.”

After a moment, the guards relaxed their stances.

“We could always use more bodies around here,” said the second guard, waving Vixen forward. “Come on in. Timebreaker will want to see you, and then we’ll put you to work.”

Vixen grinned, a finger stroking the fox tail pendant that hung around her neck.

“I can’t wait to get started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuuuck. Do you guys remember when I only had Marinette's POV to worry about? Those were the days.
> 
> Also, have I really been writing this since the summer? Oh my GOD.
> 
> Next time on BTU, we will finally, FINALLY get to Fashion Week. Marinette will get to proudly showcase her skills as a designer, and absolutely nothing will go wrong.
> 
> Absolutely.
> 
> Nothing.
> 
> :D
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	30. Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I haven't updated since January 11th?
> 
> How the fuck did that happen? o.o;
> 
> Oh well, whatever. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> ...Oh, also, just so you know: this chapter starts out MILDLY NSFW (Slight spoiler: MOST of the clothes stay on) and with disgusting amounts of fluff. You have been warned. XP
> 
> ~Reyna

Oftentimes, Marinette found herself stopping to contemplate the phenomenon that was her life.

But it never involved her life as Ladybug, oh no. She had gotten over her superhero status _years_ ago.

Instead, it was the mundane things in her life that she marveled over: her acceptance into IFA, her talents being recognized by one of the most respected fashion teachers at her college, getting a job at one of the hottest boutiques at the time (though that had soured all too quickly), and…hmm, what else…

Oh yeah: being able to make out with her ex-supermodel childhood crush/boyfriend.

Somewhere within her, Marinette wondered if she should be annoyed that Adrien’s lips were softer than hers. But then her brain disconnected and she stopped thinking about anything that didn’t involve her getting closer to him. The movie they were supposed to be watching played on, muted and completely ignored as Marinette pressed forward, climbing into Adrien’s lap, pushing him back into the arm of his couch. He didn’t seem to mind; his arms slid around her waist, holding her to him as they kissed, the heat between them increasing with every press of their lips against each other, every soft sigh exchanged between them. Their clothes shifted and crumpled in between them, annoying obstacles that they were. Marinette growled under her breath, her hands catching the collar of Adrien’s shirt, feeling their way down to undo the first button she could find without looking, for her lips were still firmly attached to Adrien’s, and she planned to keep it that way for as long as possible.

The moment her fingers made contact with the bare skin of his chest, Adrien shuddered, shifting under her, a haggard breath escaping him. The sound made Marinette’s heart race, and she pressed her palms flat against his chest, determined to grope as much of him as possible, her lips finding the underside of his jaw, kissing a trail to his ear.

“Ah! M-Mari…” Adrien groaned when she caught his earlobe in between her teeth and began to suck gently. She giggled, feeling mischievous as one of her hands slid lower, lower…

Adrien’s hand mimicked hers, sliding further south, creeping its way to her backside…

But just as he reached the waistband of her jeans, his hand jerked up, right back to the small of her back, as if he was afraid of being reprimanded.

Marinette sighed.

“Adrien,” she grumbled, pulling back to frown at her red-faced boyfriend. “I told you already—you don’t have to keep acting like a gentleman when we’re making out.”

“Sorry,” Adrien apologized with a cringe. “I don’t mean to be so…”

As he struggled for a word, Marinette, with a flat look, provided one for him.

“Saint-like?” She suggested. Adrien chuckled awkwardly.

“Basically,” he admitted, glancing away and rubbing the back of his neck. Marinette took this moment to shamelessly ogle him: with his toned and tanned body and fresh haircut, he looked every bit the supermodel he had been for nearly his whole life. The only difference was, now that he had retired, this sight was for Marinette, and Marinette alone.

She smirked at this.

“…not like I don’t _want_ to touch you,” Adrien was saying, Marinette only half paying attention to his words at this point as she eyed him hungrily. The bright red blush that filled his face at this admission distracted her from her lust for a moment, and she found herself fawning over how endearing he was before her mind was sucked right back into the gutter as he shifted under her, giving her a better view of his abs. “I’m just…trying to be careful, I guess? It kind of goes back to me wanting to cherish you and everything—hey, are you listening to me?”

“Mm-hm,” Marinette hummed as her fingertips traced patterns into the skin of his torso. Adrien shivered under her touch, his face growing even redder, and Marinette grinned.

“S-somehow, I don’t think you are,” he accused her with a husky voice and hooded eyes. Marinette stuck out her tongue before she reached for the hem of her shirt, tugging it up and over her head, since it seemed like Adrien wouldn’t be doing it for her any time soon. As she let the garment of clothing fall carelessly to the floor, it was with delight that she registered the way Adrien’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes darting rapidly in between her face and the lacy black bra Alya had talked her into buying for her birthday last year. (Bless that woman.) Marinette smirked, leaning teasingly over him so that her bust was dangerously close to his face.

“See something you like?” She teased with a wink. If possible, Adrien turned a brighter shade of red, and she laughed, leaning back before she broke the poor boy. “And please relax. I appreciate you wanting to be careful with me, I really do. I’m happy that you care so much.”

She gripped Adrien’s jaw with a hand, wanting to keep his eyes as she leaned over him again, this time face to face, letting her eyes burn into him.

“But you don’t have to treat me so gently, Adrien. I’m not made of glass, and I won’t break the minute you stop being careful.”

After all, it wasn’t like he didn’t _know_ that she was used to rough and tumble situations in her life…ah, but they weren’t talking about that just yet, were they…?

Some of what she said must have registered well enough in Adrien’s mind, however—she saw the uncertainty in his gaze vanish, replaced with something completely different: desire. As he kept her gaze, Marinette felt his hands deliberately slide down her back, resting firmly against her backside. She couldn’t help the squeak that left her when he gave a squeeze, her laugh breathless.

“There,” she huffed, grinning down at him. “Was that so h—mmph!”

Adrien didn’t give her a chance to finish her teasing; he swooped in, mashing his lips into hers, swallowing the delighted yelp that escaped her. Before she knew it, they were on the other side of the couch and she was on her back, Adrien’s weight pressed against her as he showered her in hot kisses. Not all of his weight, though—he was propped up by his elbows, as if he was afraid of crushing her. This made Marinette huff a little bit, because she didn’t _care_ if he was heavy, she just wanted to feel _all_ of him right now, and the fact that he was endeavoring to be so careful both touched and frustrated her at the same time—

Suddenly, his teeth sank into her neck, and Marinette promptly forgot every irritation she had with him, save for the one borne of embarrassment when she let out a _totally embarrassing_ moan of pleasure at this contact.

Adrien froze. Marinette held perfectly still, biting her lip as she felt a creeping blush flash through her face. She was quite aware of the trembling of Adrien’s body, pressed as close as they were, though she had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t appropriate at the moment.

“Don’t you dare,” She warned him, though the forcefulness of her command was ruined by her complete mortification.

And it was too late anyway—Adrien was already laughing.

“S-sorry,” he gasped in between his laughter, pulling back a little, his beautiful grin making Marinette pout. “Just…I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Neither was I,” she admitted in a grumble, the heat in her face increasing as she glanced away from him. “It’s…been a while. You know?”

“A week is a while for you?” Adrien teased, leaning over to kiss her cheek as his hands wandered further south; he appeared to be over his giggle fit and eager to get right back to the moment. Marinette obliged him, making _quiet_ sounds of approval as his fingertips brushed over her skin.

“I don’t just mean making out,” she corrected his assumption, tilting her head to the side in silent invitation, which Adrien took, his lips pressed against the pulse point of her neck. “I mean it’s been a while since I’ve… _been_ with anybody.”

Adrien stopped again.

“…Oh,” was all he said. Marinette frowned, for his tone of voice was strange. It was like he was suddenly uncomfortable, for some reason she didn’t understand…

“Adrien?” She asked softly, turning her head, but she couldn’t see him when he still had his face pressed against her neck. “Everything okay?”

He took way too long to answer, in Marinette’s book. She was about to wriggle out from underneath him and demand to know what was wrong, but then he was suddenly pulling back, sitting up and moving off of her. The loss of his warmth was terrible; Marinette shivered in the sudden chill, though the room was anything but cold.

“Adrien?” She questioned again, sitting up and wrapping her arms around herself as she wondered if she would need her shirt for this conversation, for Adrien _did_ look uncomfortable, his face the reddest it had been all night. What was wrong?

Adrien sighed, pushing his hair out of his face, the action ruffling it. Distracted, Marinette wondered for a moment how that new haircut of his would look under two black cat ears perched atop his head.

“I…should probably tell you something, Marinette,” Adrien prefaced, uncertain green eyes glancing away from her.

Marinette stared at him.

He wanted to do this _now?_

“…Can’t it wait?” She questioned, feeling cowardly for asking, but honestly, she had only come over here on the eve of Fashion Week to de-stress, and making out with her boyfriend seemed like a good way to do that. She had thought that they had reached a mutual understanding about this issue—that it could wait until they had time to focus on it—but oh no, now he was bringing it up, and she wasn’t ready yet, she wasn’t ready to face facts just yet—

Her panic must have been evident in her eyes; Adrien’s eyes widened in response, and he held up his hands in a placating manner.

“No, no, it’s not—” he stopped, cleared his throat, and tried again. “It isn’t anything…serious. Just…something you should probably know, before we…go any further. Here,” He clarified, gesturing between them.

The knot in Marinette’s stomach unclenched, and she allowed herself to breathe.

“Oh…okay?” Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Marinette sat forward, wrapping her arms around her legs as she looked expectantly at her boyfriend. “What’s up?”

Adrien sighed, this time running both hands through his hair before they came to rest at the back of his neck.

“Okay…so, here’s the thing…um,” he hesitated, his face practically glowing red at this point. “I mean…well, my dating history is kind of…incomplete. I mean, I’ve dated other women before—oh, but you know that, you’ve met Eri—”

“I’m pen pals with Eri,” Marinette reminded him with a smile. Adrien nodded.

“Right. So, yeah. Um, the thing is…there have been a lot of women—well, not a _lot_ of women—just, like, a handful of women? Ugh, that still sounds bad. Look, my point is—is—”

Wow, he was really struggling to say just whatever it was that he needed to say at this exact moment. Marinette’s head tilted to the side as she watched him, her brow puckering slightly. It was as she was watching him flounder that an odd thought occurred to her, one that she had never considered before. And she supposed she had never considered it before because, well, quite frankly, Adrien was gorgeous. He might not have been as kind and charming with his previous girlfriends as he was with her, but still, there was no doubt in Marinette’s mind that women still flocked to him in droves, simply for his looks.

But still…even if Adrien had had a lot of girlfriends, he had confessed to her that he had only truly been in love with one woman.

And because she knew Adrien was a true romantic at heart…if he had only been in love with one woman, then it was possible that…

“Adrien,” Marinette cut into her boyfriend’s babbling, staring curiously up at him as she asked, “…Are you a virgin?”

Whatever blood that was not yet in Adrien’s face seemed to surge there in an instant, making him look like…well, a virginal bride on her wedding night.

That was more than enough confirmation for Marinette’s theory.

‘ _Don’t laugh, do_ not _laugh,_ ’ Marinette sternly ordered herself, though it was a struggle, because oh god, he was _adorable._

“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” Marinette told him, reaching forward to take his hands away from his face, where he had promptly placed them after Marinette had called him out. She smiled up into his blushing face, wanting to reassure him. “It’s not a big deal.”

Instead of being reassured, Adrien _pouted._ And this time Marinette _did_ laugh, because his adorableness was off the charts, and he was slaying her.

“Do you know what the paparazzi would do with such scandalous information?” He asked her over her giggling, raising his eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion. “My playboy image could be _ruined._ ”

“Ahahahahaha!” Marinette laughed, clutching at her stomach now. “Oh _god,_ they’d have a _field day!_ Your heartbreaker reputation is what sells magazines! This would be _terrible!_ ”

“Yeah, well, let’s keep this our little secret, okay?” Adrien requested, reaching out to press a finger to Marinette’s lips. “And I mean just between us. I know you and Alya like to share,” here he wrinkled his nose, “but if she finds out about this, she’ll never let it go.”

“You’re probably right,” Marinette admitted, sobering up. She moved Adrien’s finger from her lips, kissing the palm of his hand. “I won’t say anything to her…though you really have nothing to be ashamed of. There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin, Adrien.”

Adrien pursed his lips, still completely red in the face.

“Yeah…just something I don’t want to be spread around is all.”

“I understand,” Marinette said, pressing a kiss to his knuckles next, as he had done for her so many times before… “We’ll keep it between us.”

It would be easy enough, to neglect mentioning this one little detail to Alya. After all, what was one more secret between her and Adrien…?

Speaking of him, he was giving her a rather peculiar look at the moment. Marinette raised her eyebrows at him.

“What?”

“…”

Adrien said nothing at first, tilting his head to the side. He loosed his hand from her grip, resting it against her face, his thumb stroking her cheekbone, painting a trail of red as her skin reacted to his touch.

“What?” Marinette asked again, though the sound was a little more breathless this time around. Adrien gave a slight shrug, leaning in.

“Nothing…you’re just taking this a lot better than I expected you to.”

Marinette’s eyebrows disappeared behind her bangs.

“What did you expect me to do? Call you a prude?”

“I was expecting you to call me out for lying, actually,” Adrien admitted with a cringe. “I doubt many people would actually believe me, thanks to my reputation…”

“I can tell when you’re lying, Adrien,” Marinette reminded him with a slight smirk. “You have a tell, remember?”

Adrien frowned.

“Oh yeah…and you _still_ won’t tell me—?”

“Nope.”

“Dammit.”

Marinette laughed, ruffling Adrien’s hair just to tease him. He pouted and captured her hand, lacing his fingers with hers to apparently discourage any further misbehavior. Marinette allowed this.

“It’s okay,” she said again with an affirming nod. “It’s honestly not a big deal.” She frowned a little. “That being said…if we’re going too fast—”

“Oh, no,” Adrien interrupted with a swift shake of his head. “ _No_ no no no no, that’s not why I stopped. I just…well…it seemed like something you should know, before we, um…” He swallowed. “…Went any further.”

Oh, he looked terribly self-conscious now. Marinette felt so bad; it looked like it cost him something to admit what he saw as a flaw to her, but she was just sitting here thinking how damn adorable he was.

To help put some of his fears at ease, Marinette drew him down to her, gently pressing her lips to his until he melted against her, a content sigh escaping him. Marinette giggled and pulled away, just able to resist the protesting noise that left Adrien, though his kitten eyes were making it very hard to remember what it was _she_ needed to say before they went any further…

“I mean it,” she said, even as Adrien leaned in to nuzzle her neck. “If you need some time—ah—I don’t want to push you before you’re ready—”

“Mari,” Adrien grumbled, pulling away to meet her eyes; Marinette felt her skin erupt into flames at how _sexy_ he suddenly looked, with his ruffled hair, pouting lips, and eyes that looked so very, very hungry… “I am more than ready for this if you are.”

Wow. Marinette came over here to make out with her boyfriend, but it looked as if she would be getting to sleep with her boyfriend for the first time as well. All in all, tonight was shaping up to be a very good night.

Barely getting her nod of affirmation out of the way, Marinette lunged, mashing her lips to her boyfriend’s, her hands burying themselves in his hair. Adrien made a low sound in his throat, and he sank into her, his passion rivaled by hers as they kissed each other hungrily, the heat between them escalating, the temperature in the room skyrocketing—

A shrill ringing sound pierced the silence of the room, startling them both; they jumped, and Adrien let out a startled yelp, followed by a groan of pain as Marinette’s knee landed _dangerously_ close to his groin. Marinette apologized profusely, but Adrien waved off her concerns with a strained smile. Nevertheless, he moved a little gingerly as he went to answer his cell phone, which was vibrating against his coffee table, demanding his attention.

“Hello?” His voice was way too husky for a simple phone call, Marinette couldn’t help but notice. She bit her lip and crossed her legs, reminding herself to behave, but unable to help her wandering eyes as they trailed over Adrien’s back; she noticed the little shiver he gave, almost as if he could feel her gaze on him. A second later, however, he went rigid.

“What? No, they’re not meant to be in gold, they’re supposed to be in _blue._ I _told_ you this, Trey!” He paused, and Marinette sat up straight, beginning to frown. That sounded suspiciously like something had gone wrong with work, and considering it was _her_ fashion line that was premiering with Agreste Fashion tomorrow, she was not comforted by what she was overhearing.

“Wait, what happened to the garment bag? …They spilled _what_ on it?”

Okay, now the mood was officially ruined.

“What happened?!” Marinette demanded to know, scooting forward to see Adrien’s face. He let out a low oath, glancing askance at her, as if he had forgotten she was there.

“Trey, let me—let me call you back, okay? No, I’m heading out, I’ll call you back in the car.” Adrien hung up and sighed, turning to Marinette. “I’m sorry, Mari. Apparently, there’ve been some last-minute disasters—”

“I’ll go with you,” Marinette decided, leaning over to snatch her shirt from off the floor. She was forestalled, however, by the hand on her shoulder.

“Mari, no, you don’t have to come,” Adrien assured her, looking anxious. “You’ve already stressed about this enough—this is something I can take care of, I promise.”

“But what if a stitch is loose on one of the outfits?” Marinette protested right away, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “What if one of the masks got destroyed while my line was being transferred to _le Carrousel du Louvre_? What if we don’t catch a tiny tear in one of the outfits in time, and they come apart at the seams as soon as someone tries to wear them, leaving them naked on the runway?!”

…Okay, so there was a _slight_ chance that she might be exaggerating. But at this point in the game, Marinette was definitely panicked. Everything she had worked towards her whole life hinged on how tomorrow went, when her _prêt-à-porter_ line was displayed for the world to see. It would be the first time people on a global scale would be able to see what she could do, what she was capable of. So everything had to be _perfect._ At this late in the game, Marinette could not afford mistakes.

…But even so…if everything did go right tomorrow, but nobody liked her designs…if Marinette failed to make an impression in this world she was so desperate to be a part of…what would she do…?

“…ri? Mari? Marinette!”

Marinette blinked, startled out of her rapidly spiraling thoughts. Adrien’s hands were cupping her face, and worry was clear in his green eyes as he stared at her, his golden brows furrowed. Marinette stared up at him in surprise. Oh…had he been talking to her…?

“Sorry,” she apologized belatedly, cringing. “What did you say? I didn’t catch it.”

Adrien smiled a little, placing a gentle kiss upon Marinette’s forehead.

“Please breathe,” he requested, resting his forehead against hers as he stared deep into her eyes, almost as if he was trying to will her into believing him with the force of his eyes alone. (It was a very convincing argument, Marinette had to admit.) “Everything will be fine. I promise.”

Marinette’s lower lip jutted out.

“Then what’s all this about ‘last-minute disasters’, huh?”

Adrien cringed.

“Right…well, I’m gonna go take care of those right now. All I need you to do tonight is to get some sleep.”

Marinette let out a bitter laugh.

“Oh, right, ‘sleep’. Remind me, what’s that again? It’s been a while.”

Adrien chuckled under his breath, pecking Marinette’s lips.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he repeated, the quirk of his eyebrows indicating that Marinette should repeat after him. She gave a sigh, pressing her lips together in rebellion for a brief moment before she gave into his expectant look.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” she echoed him, and was rewarded with another kiss.

“Good. Now, I’m really sorry, but I have to go.” He let go of her, beginning to button his shirt back up. “If you want, you can spend the night here.”

Oh. That was generous. Marinette had to admit, she was a little eager to try out Adrien’s bed…but in her fantasies, he had been in bed _with_ her. Sleeping alone in his house did not appeal to her in the slightest.

“That’s okay,” she replied, pulling her shirt back over her head and tugging her dark hair out of her collar. “If I stay here, I really won’t sleep, because I’ll just be waiting up all night for you to get back.” She gave him a slow once-over, smirking when she noticed the blush that filled his face afterwards. “I kind of want to finish what we started earlier.”

Adrien made a show of folding his arms over his still-bare chest, for he hadn’t finished buttoning his shirt back up yet. He gave her a scandalized look and Marinette laughed.

“I’m not just a piece of meat, Marinette!” He protested over her laughter. “I have feelings, too!”

“You’re such a dork,” she teased him, leaning forward to kiss him again. God, he was such a good kisser…it was almost torture for her to pull away, especially because Adrien followed her, lips still puckered. Giggling, Marinette halted him with a finger to his nose, pressing him back. “You have work to do, remember?”

“Oh yeah.” Adrien sighed, rubbing the back of his head and ruffling his hair in the process. “Work, right…I’ll drop you off at your place first, then.”

“Adrien, I drove myself here,” Marinette reminded him as she stood up, making her way to the foyer, where she had left her boots.

“Oh yeah. Damn.”

Marinette laughed as she hopped in place, trying to get her boots on.

“What? I can drive myself ho—waah!”

Predictably, she slipped. Marinette shrieked, her arms flailing wildly, but before she could topple over, strong arms caught her, righting her once again. Marinette blushed, cursing herself. She hated this ‘damsel-in-distress’ trait of hers. Thank god Adrien never laughed at her clumsiness.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t drive yourself home,” Adrien mumbled in her ear as he held her to him, her back to his chest. Marinette shivered in delight. “I just hate every minute I have to spend away from you.”

Marinette tried to discourage the silly grin she could feel spreading across her face, only to fail immediately.

“You act like you won’t see me tomorrow,” she pointed out, turning around in his arms to look at him. Adrien leaned over, kissing the spot just under her earlobe.

“That’s too long.” He complained. Marinette laughed a little breathlessly, leaning back in his grasp so neither of them could get too carried away.

“You’re such a sap,” she teased him, stretching on her toes to kiss his nose before she wriggled out of his grasp and danced away, grabbing her coat from the hall closet and pulling it on, along with her hat, scarf, and gloves. “But that’s one of the things I like about you.”

“Is another thing how devilishly handsome I am?” Adrien inquired, striking a pose.

‘ _Hello, Chat,_ ’ Marinette thought with a smirk.

“No, the other reason how dorky you are,” she rebutted, skillfully ignoring Adrien’s pouting as she kissed his cheek. “I gotta go, and so do you.”

“Okay, okay,” Adrien sighed, opening the door for Marinette. The blast of cold air after such a hot evening was unappreciated, and Marinette bundled herself further into her scarf to hide her pout. Her discontent was still obvious, however; Adrien chuckled as she stomped outside, ready to fight winter. “Get some sleep, Mari. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Marinette turned to him once again, tugging her scarf down to speak as she gave him an anxious look.

“Don’t be afraid to call me if you need anything adjusted, all right?” She told him, chewing on her lip again. “If I need to, I can swing by anytime, just ask.”

“I know,” Adrien assured her, a smile on his lips. “I promise I’ll call you if we absolutely need you. Just focus on getting some rest tonight, because tomorrow’s going to be hectic. It won’t be a good day for you to be sleep-deprived.”

“Right,” Marinette mumbled, blushing as Adrien reached forward to caress her cheek. He chuckled, reaching up to tug her hat lower over her ears. Marinette noticed the way his fingertip trailed down her left earlobe, brushing against the pink sapphire earring, his gift to her…before coming to rest on her Ladybug Miraculous. His expression went blank, unreadable, like he was trying to hide whatever he was feeling from her. Marinette reached up to squeeze his hand, feeling the shape of his ring—the ring that never left his hand—through her glove.

They stared at each other, mutually understood information hanging in the air between them, making them tense. Marinette searched Adrien’s gaze as he stared down at her, and she wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was—of the moment when this would finally have to be addressed, and when that moment might be.

It was still for a very long moment…and then—

“Good night, Marinette,” Adrien whispered, gently disengaging his hand from hers.

Somehow, Marinette mustered a smile.

“Good night, Adrien,” she replied, stealing one last kiss before she turned, feeling her blush deepen as she made her way down Adrien’s walkway, acutely aware of his eyes on her back until she passed through the gate. As she walked to her car, she laid a hand over her heart, as if the gesture would be enough for it to quit pounding. (It wasn’t.)

“I love you, Adrien,” she whispered to herself, the heat in her cheeks intensifying.

She hadn’t told him that yet. But she would, someday, possibly someday soon.

It was just another thing to add to the list of things going unsaid between them.

 

* * *

 

Adrien sighed as he adjusted his cuff links. No matter how many times he had gone through with these fashion shows, it still pained him to have to dress up for them. True, he looked good in his three-piece suit—black, of course, save for the gold vest to match his cuff links—and true, he didn’t have to be up on the runway during this fashion show, but even so…

‘ _Focus,_ ’ he reminded himself sternly, drawing in a deep breath. Right. Tonight wasn’t about him. It was all about her.

_Le Carrousel du Louvre_ had never looked so beautiful to Adrien when he had arrived earlier that evening: a grand, golden building accented perfectly by the glittering lake and glass pyramids that sat before it, a shining beacon in the darkening night sky, as if it was comprised of fallen stars calling to their ancestors in the sky, displaying that they could still shine bright, even while grounded here on earth. Adrien had only let himself admire the building for a brief moment before he headed inside to the staging area. Here, stars glittered as well, though they were of a different variety: from the bright spotlights overhead illuminating the vast stage set up in the middle of the grand room—the city backdrop surrounding the entryway leading to the backstage area glinting with tiny little lights in its miniature windows—to the fashion icons of the world sparkling in their own regard as they mingled and greeted one another, supernovas recognizing their kin.

It was the epitome of the fashion world: a bright, dazzling, blinding fairytale land.

Adrien was so relieved to no longer be such a large part of it.

“Wow! Look at _you!_ Not even in this fashion show, yet you _still_ insist on turning heads!”

Adrien grinned rather sheepishly as Desiree approached, looking stunning in a little black number, her dark hair piled on top of her head, her make-up flawless and dramatic.

“Hello, Desiree. You look lovely,” he greeted her. Desiree shrugged it off, as if the compliment was inconsequential, as she gave him a sly smile, eyeing him up and down.

“So who, exactly, are you trying to impress if you’re not going to be up on stage?” Desiree winked. “As if I don’t know already. You’re gonna give my poor star pupil a heart attack, you know. Isn’t she already under enough pressure without you looking like that?”

Adrien frowned, self-consciously smoothing his hand over his hair.

It wasn’t exactly his intention to fluster Marinette today…that had been the _last_ thing on his mind when he had gotten dressed for this event; he wasn’t even sure that he would see her before the show began. But now Desiree was making him worry that he would indeed distract Marinette from what was no doubt going to be a huge night for her, career-wise…

Desiree laughed and patted Adrien’s shoulder.

“I’m just kidding,” she teased him with another wink. Adrien shook his head good-naturedly. Typical Desiree—always causing mischief.

“I’m actually dressed up because I’m going to be performing,” he admitted, nodding his head towards the grand white piano on the other side of the room, where an orchestra was setting up to do a sound check. Desiree’s eyes widened in delight.

“Oh, how lovely! And who roped you into that, I wonder?”

“No one,” chuckled Adrien. “I’ll only be performing when Marinette’s line showcases. It’s, um, a surprise for her, to give her courage. The critics here are tough, after all.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Desiree cooed, and Adrien flushed in embarrassment. “I think she’ll do wonderfully, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” said Adrien, nodding to himself as he glanced up at the stage again, his eyes going to the curtained entryway that hid the backstage from view. Marinette was undoubtedly back there somewhere, doing a last-minute check before the show started. He hadn’t seen her yet today…he hoped she was doing all right…

‘ _Of course she is,_ ’ said a voice in his head that sounded strangely like him, for a change, scoffing at his worry like it was nothing. ‘ _She’ll be fine. She’s Marinette. She’s_ Ladybug.’

…Okay, now was probably not the time to focus on _that_ , but he supposed his inner voice _did_ have a point…

“Where are you sitting, Desiree?” Adrien asked to distract himself. “If you need a closer seat, I can see if I can pull some strings—”

Desiree laughed.

“That’s kind of you, darling, but I already promised some friends that I’d catch up with them during the show. I’ll be cheering for Mari-doll from over there,” she said, gesturing vaguely to the right. “Let’s wish her luck together, all right?”

Adrien smiled. Wishing luck to the literal _embodiment_ of good luck seemed a little redundant, but…

“Of course,” he promised, and Desiree flounced off with a parting smile, to the right of the stage, where she was gaily greeted by some fashion higher ups Adrien vaguely recognized; now that he was no longer a model, he was no longer bothering to memorize all the big names, save for when it came to running his fashion company…a career he was beginning to ponder over, admittedly. True, it had been his goal to open his own fashion line—this was what he went to college for—but at the time, it had been because he was chasing his father’s shadow.

But he didn’t want to _be_ Gabriel Agreste’s successor. He wanted to Adrien Agreste, his own person, with his own goals and desires. And, as his therapy sessions with Ivan progressed, Adrien found himself wondering more and more: was being the CEO of a fashion company really for him? Or was it like modeling, something he chose to do because he didn’t know what else to do with himself…?

Questions for another time: a cool voice from overhead interrupted his thought process.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. The show will begin in five minutes.”

Letting out a slow breath, Adrien settled into his seat, readjusting his cuff links once more. The program he was holding for the show stated that Marinette was slated to go last in tonight’s _prêt-à-porter_ display, meaning Adrien had about an hour before he needed to do anything. Still, as the lights over the crowd dimmed, and the spotlights aimed at the stage intensified, Adrien found himself crossing his fingers.

Marinette was indeed much luckier than the average person…but it couldn’t hurt for him to wish a little more for the woman he loved, right?

And so the first night of Fashion Week began.

Though the lights flashed and the music swelled, accentuating the beautiful models as they strutted on the stage in their bold fashions, Adrien could not focus. There were four designers being showcased tonight, but even if someone held a gun to his head and demanded that he recite the names and fashion lines of the first three designers, Adrien would be shit out of luck. Instead, he focused on only his watch and his foot, counting down the minutes while he counted the taps of his shoe against the floor, anxiously awaiting for it to finally be time…

He glanced up as the third designer made a brief appearance, waving to the crowd gratefully as they applauded him. As he began to make his retreat, Adrien stood up. It was time.

The orchestra went still as Adrien approached the piano. He took a seat carefully behind the grand instrument, undoing his cuff links and pushing up his sleeves. He allowed himself to breathe for a brief moment, positioning his hands above the keys.

‘ _For you, Marinette._ ’

Adrien began to play, his chords the only sound in the room, but not for long; soon the rest of the orchestra picked up again, swelling along with his dynamic notes to match the superhero theme of Marinette’s line. Adrien felt the stares aimed at him, supposing that it was something of a marvel that he was playing piano at a fashion show rather than modeling up on the runway, but he didn’t care—behind the piano was where he’d rather be, especially if it meant he got to play for Marinette again.

Soon enough, he felt the gazes on his back leave him, and a soft muttering filled the room. Adrien chanced a brief glance over at the stage, smiling when he caught sight of the red-headed model in the Peacock-inspired outfit. He knew the order: he had just missed the Fox-themed outfit, and next would be the outfit based on Emerald Shell, followed by the Bee, the one for Chat Noir, and then finally, Ladybug. The best must be saved for last, after all.

The crowd was a sea of cell phones, all snapping pictures of Marinette’s designs. Because she was near the stage, Adrien could spot Desiree smirking smugly as her colleagues spoke emphatically to each other, obviously impressed. Adrien couldn’t help but grin as well, hoping that Marinette could see the crowd’s reaction from backstage somehow.

Adrien could tell by the lighting and musical cues which outfit was being showcased at what time—as the spotlights dimmed and the orchestra went silent again, with only him still playing, he knew without looking that the Chat Noir outfit would be displayed at the moment, the dimness needed to show off the luminescent paint on the jacket. He swallowed, trying not to let his nerves affect his playing as the muttering increased around him, nothing distinct for him to make out, though he had a feeling not all of it was positive.

‘ _Not about you,_ ’ he sternly reminded himself, and continued to play, the music picking up again as the lights came back on, some of them taking on a red hue as the star of the show arrived—

Adrien peeked. The model wearing the Ladybug outfit sashayed confidently down the walkway, parasol over her shoulder, sassy smirk in place that was almost as alluring as the actual Ladybug…but then again, Adrien was biased. As the noise of the crowd grew, a combination of comments, applause, and the clicking of cameras, the model struck Ladybug’s famous battle pose: legs apart, fists raised and ready for action…well, one fist raised, since the model had the parasol to hold onto, but still, the move was enough to bring a grin to Adrien’s face. He wondered if Marinette personally coached the model on how to pose at the end, and the thought amused him.

Abruptly, all the spotlights went out, save for just one, still beaming down on the Ladybug model. Adrien glanced up at the ceiling with a frown. He was quite sure there weren’t meant to be any more lighting cues; it was the end of the show for the night, and Marinette was supposed to come out to take her bow for the crowd…so what was going on?

One of the violinists near Adrien gasped, and he glanced at her curiously, but she was not looking at him. Her eyes were focused on the stage, her mouth hanging open in what appeared to be slowly dawning horror.

Adrien’s eyes snapped to the stage. At first, he didn’t see anything worth being alarmed about. It was just the Ladybug model, just standing there…

And then he saw them—dark tendrils of _something_ were slowly winding their way around the shocked model’s legs, immobilizing her and steadily working their way up her body.

“… _Caught you, Ladybug…_ ” Whispered a voice that somehow carried throughout the vicinity, the shadow tendrils constricting around the model. The voice sent an absolute _chill_ through Adrien’s spine, and the mutters he heard around him, wondering whether this was part of the show or not, began to change from intrigue to fear.

The model began to shriek, but only for a moment—the darkness climbed higher, covering her mouth and effectively silencing her. Her fear was contagious—the crowd began to panic as well, jumping up to flee for the exits. Adrien caught a flash of Desiree’s terrified face before the man beside her grabbed her arm and yanked her towards the crowded aisle. Adrien jumped to his feet, knocking the piano bench back in the process, his heart in his throat, his right hand clenching into a fist so tight he could feel his ring digging into his skin. He could not just sit here and watch this. He was a _superhero,_ damn it! He had to—

“Hey!”

Adrien’s head whipped around, and he spotted her, standing on the ledge just over one of the exits: clad in red and black, her dark hair tied back into pigtails, her bluebell eyes burning fiercely.

_Ladybug._

As Adrien’s heart leapt for joy, Ladybug jumped down from her perch, striking a defiant pose as she glared at the darkness surrounding the model.

“If you’re looking for me, I’m right here,” she announced, daring to smirk. “Looks like you caught the wrong Bug in your trap.”

“ _…So it seems…_ ” The chilling voice whispered again. Adrien watched as it slowly unwound itself from the terrified model, and he rushed forward as she was flung offstage, catching her unconscious form just in time; she must have fainted from fear. He glared up at the stage, where the darkness was swirling, re-forming…

It took the form of…a woman, Adrien thought. The shape of its body suggested as such, with long hair that fell to the floor, pooling around her. Adrien could make out nothing else, save for her eyes, which were hard to miss, since they glowed an eerie white, striking amidst the otherwise dense darkness.

Adrien placed a name to this figure just as Ladybug said it out loud:

“Shade.”

“ _The one and only,_ ” whispered Shade, spreading dark hands wide, as if welcoming Ladybug. “ _A pleasure to finally meet you face to face, Ladybug._ ”

“Wish I could say the same,” Ladybug drawled, scowling as she unhooked her yo-yo from her hip, whirling it so fast it became a red blur. “What happened? Did the Butterfly get tired of traumatizing people and finally send _you_ to do his dirty work?”

Adrien crouched, hovering protectively over the unconscious model as he watched Shade tilt her head at a strange angle that made chills creep down his back once more. Good god, how the hell was she _doing_ that?! If it was a snake thing, he didn’t like it.

“ _…I beg your pardon…?_ ” Shade asked, as if Ladybug had asked her to solve a complicated math problem. Adrien watched Ladybug’s scowl deepen.

“You heard me! And why are you working with the Butterfly anyway? The Miraculous aren’t meant to be used for evil! You’re supposed to be a hero, but instead, you’re shaming every value the Miraculous are meant to stand for!”

Shade just stared at Ladybug. It made Adrien antsy; there was no way to distinguish her facial features at all, so whatever she was thinking was a complete mystery. If only he could sneak away and transform…but it felt wrong to leave the model there, unconscious and defenseless…

Ladybug, for reasons all her own, seemed to take Shade’s silence as a good sign. She took a cautious step forward, though she still whirled her yo-yo, much to Adrien’s relief. She was on her guard, and while it would make him feel better if she had Chat Noir on her side right now, he was just happy she was being careful.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, Shade,” Ladybug coaxed, her gaze locked with Shade’s glowing eyes. “It’s not too late. I don’t know what the Butterfly’s holding over you, or why you decided to join him, but—”

“ _One moment, Ladybug,_ ” Shade interrupted, raising a shadowy hand. “ _You seem to be operating under a certain…misconception. If I am…understanding correctly…you seem to think that I am working with the Butterfly. That is incorrect._ ”

Suddenly, Shade’s face split, and white, razor sharp teeth appeared in her face.

“ _I_ am _the Butterfly._ ”

Everything stopped. Breath, heartbeats, time. Everything.

Even as Adrien saw Ladybug’s yo-yo swing to a slow halt, he could not tear his eyes away from Shade, horrified.

All this time…

All this time, they had been under the impression that they were two entities. Why? Well, they had just assumed. After all, it was unprecedented for a Miraculous wielder to wield more than one Miraculous at a time. Unheard of. And sure, Hawk Moth had wanted both the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous, once upon a time, but they had never thought he wanted to use both of them at the _same time_. Was that even possible…?

“I don’t believe you,” Ladybug spat, but Adrien could hear the wariness in her voice. The fear.

Shade’s smile disappeared. Adrien was not sure whether to be relieved or terrified about that.

“ _If you need proof…_ ”

Shade waved a hand down the front of her torso. And, right before Adrien’s very eyes, it appeared, just below Shade’s neck, just above her chest: the Butterfly Miraculous.

Suddenly, Adrien was fifteen years old again, clutching the Butterfly Miraculous as he stood outside Master Fu’s massage parlor, trying not to think of it as the only piece of his father he had left. His feelings had still been muddled, the pain too blinding for him to make sense of it just yet. He had just been staring at it, wondering if he was even _ready_ to part with something that had caused so much pain in other peoples’ lives—

But then the matter was taken out of his hands. Literally.

It had been there and gone before he could even blink, yet too quick for him to see. Within the space of a heartbeat, it had snatched the Butterfly Miraculous and had disappeared, the shadow… _her_ shadow…

“It was _you,_ ” Adrien breathed, staring at the dark figure on stage. His voice had been barely above a whisper, but she still turned to look at him, as if she had heard him. There was no confirmation in those eerie eyes, but still, Adrien _knew_ :

It had been her all along. The resurgence of the Butterfly hadn’t been an accident, or a conveniently-timed coincidence. The Butterfly—Shade—had set up a well-laid trap, and had waited patiently all these years for them to be so distracted that they didn’t notice until it was too late, and the trap was springing closed.

The only thing missing was—

“ _Why?!_ ” Ladybug demanded, her yo-yo spinning twice as fast now, echoing her enraged disbelief. “All this time…you’ve been hiding in the shadows _all this time,_ using anyone and everyone you could get your hands on, even _children!_ ”

Ladybug’s eyes were full of furious tears. Adrien hated the sight of them.

“Why would you do all this?! What could we have possibly done to make you hate us so much?!”

Shade stared at Ladybug. Slowly, her frightening smile appeared again, and a soft, chilling chuckle began to issue from her, filling the silence with sharp glass and cold amusement.

“ _...Would having a reason make it better, Ladybug?_ ” She inquired, twisting her head at that odd angle again, her snake-like smile still in place. “ _If I wove you a tale of some tragic backstory, would that make sense of my motivations for you? Would you find it in your heart to forgive a loathsome creature like me? Perhaps even pity me, if my reason was good enough?_ ”

She was beginning to swell, Adrien abruptly noticed. He caught his breath as Shade’s form warped, growing in scale as she reared up…like a cobra poised to strike. Her glowing eyes flashed yellow, narrowed into slits as she gazed down at Ladybug, who seemed frozen, her mouth open in horror.

“It was you,” he heard Ladybug whimper, and another realization crashed into him: that creature she had spoken about to him and Emerald Shell? The one that had inexplicably broke into her apartment and nearly did god-knows-what to her? It was right there in front of them.

Which meant…

It was possible that Shade—the Butterfly—knew Ladybug’s secret identity.

The thought made Adrien’s blood run cold.

“ _What’s the matter, Ladybug?_ ” Shade crooned. “ _Not going to try and reason with me? ...Or perhaps…you fear a creature like me for_ having _no reason other than because I want to? Or because I can?_ ” Though she was much too large to be allowed on such a narrow stage, Shade did not let that stop her, her form undulating like an actual snake’s, making Adrien’s adrenaline spike as the threat of her presence prickled over every inch of his skin. He wanted to help Ladybug—he _had_ to—but the model…

“ _Does that_ scare _you, Ladybug?_ ” Shade hissed, her quiet voice carrying through the dead silence of the abandoned building. “ _A villain with nothing redeemable about them…someone your toy cannot purify…someone you cannot save…does that make you feel like a_ failure?”

Adrien jumped to attention when he noticed that the darkness that was Shade was beginning to creep its way towards Ladybug, dark tendrils grazing her legs in an almost loving caress, something Ladybug did not seem to register as she stared up at Shade. But the darkness was beginning to wind its way around her, like the tail of a python, and Adrien began to panic.

“Don’t listen to her, Ladybug!” he cried, the sudden pale shade of the spotted superhero’s skin alarming him. “She’s just trying to get into your head! Don’t listen!”

Ladybug gave no sign of whether she heard him or not—her eyes were fixed on Shade as she simultaneously constricted and towered over Ladybug, slowly swaying from side to side. Ladybug’s head followed the movement, as if she was transfixed. Hypnotized.

“ _The whole of Paris is against you,_ ” Shade hissed, her head lowering bit by bit, her fangs showing again. “ _Citizens who would work to expel their demonic neighbors…citizens who would oppose you to fight their protestors…the city is tearing itself inside out, and there is nothing you can do about it, Ladybug. You’re a failure. It’s hopeless. It’s_ over.”

_Damn_ it. Adrien had to do something!

Carefully laying the unconscious model down on the floor with muted apologies, Adrien shoved his hand into one of his pockets, searching for Plagg. He had to help Ladybug, even if it meant transforming out here in the open, even if it meant revealing himself to their enemy…even if it meant thrusting the issue both he and Marinette had been dodging for so long into the light…

Just as Adrien’s thumb and forefinger closed around Plagg’s tail, a door leading into the room was forced open, and something whizzed through the air just as Shade reared back, looking like she was about to strike—

“Force Field: Activate!”

Shade hissed and spit in outrage as her face crashed into the force field that slammed down around Ladybug just in the nick of time, her dark tendrils fleeing from Ladybug, as if the light of the force field physically burned her.

Light…

“LB! I’m here!”

Adrien whipped around, spotting the green turtle-themed superhero as he rushed into the room. He swore he was never more grateful for the appearance of Emerald Shell than he was in that moment.

“Whoa,” Shell said, slowing his dash to a stop as he approached Ladybug, his eyes wide behind his goggles as he stared up at Shade, who still writhed and spat in agony. “What the hell did I _miss_?”

“Shell,” Ladybug greeted, half weary, half angry as she pressed her palms against the force field, glaring up at Shade. “Meet Shade. And the Butterfly.”

Adrien watched as Shell’s head whipped around so fast that he winced, rubbing it through his hood.

“What?! But…I thought—”

“We all thought,” Ladybug said regretfully as Shell called down his force field, freeing Ladybug to resume her defensive stance, whirling her yo-yo as Shell raised his shield. “But we were wrong. They aren’t two people. They’re the same person.”

Shell sucked his teeth.

“Well ain’t that a bitch?”

“‘Bitch’ is a good word,” Ladybug replied dryly as Shade finally seemed to return to the moment, shrinking down to her original form. Her eyes were white again, narrowing in fury as she glared at the two heroes.

“ _The turtle…_ ” she hissed, and Shell gave her a salute.

“Yo.”

Shade’s eyes swept the room, resting once more upon Adrien, who felt another wave of terror pulse through him as he suddenly realized something else:

She _knew_. She had known when she stole the Butterfly Miraculous from him all those years ago, and she knew now. He could see it in her eyes.

The enemy knew he was Chat Noir.

Red suddenly invaded his vision, and Adrien blinked, unsurprised to find that Ladybug had jumped in between him and the threat. She wasn’t a superheroine for nothing, after all…

“You wanted me, right, Shade? I’m right here—come and get me!” Ladybug taunted, and fear of a different variety seized Adrien. It would be different if Ladybug were free to roam about, avoiding attack as she always did with her amazing luck…but now that she was responsible for the one unconscious civilian and the hiding superhero in the room…

Shade seemed to recognize the same thing, for her terrifying smile reappeared, and she spread her arms wide, as if to invoke chaos itself into being.

“ _Have it your way, Ladybug…_ ”

Emerald Shell suddenly cursed loudly. Both Adrien and Ladybug’s heads whipped around, and it was with horror that Adrien registered the swirling pool of _darkness_ that seemed to be sucking him into the floor, no matter how hard he fought to get away, like quicksand engineered by the devil himself.

“What the fuck?! Get it off me! This is _so_ not cool!!” Shell protested, and though the situation was dire, there was something almost comical in the understatement of Shell’s last sentence…comical and familiar. Weird…

Ladybug yelped as well, and Adrien turned to find her in much the same compromising position as Shell, though she was sinking slower. He stepped forward, wanting to help and hating that he felt _helpless_ in this moment, but she shoved him back with a hand.

“Don’t you dare!” She snapped at him, glaring as she struggled with the dark pool of evil that was sucking her in. “Protect Giselle! Both of you get out of here, now!”

Adrien scowled. This was why he hated being in civilian form when akuma shit went down…but then again, Ladybug would probably act like this even if he was Chat Noir right now…

Well, just because he _felt_ helpless didn’t mean that he _had_ to be.

“The lights,” he huffed, snatching up Giselle’s limp form again as darkness began to appear underneath her, hoisting her over his shoulder. Ladybug paused her struggling long enough to give him a bewildered look.

“Huh?”

“The lights,” Adrien repeated urgently, jumping out of the way of the pool of darkness that sudden appeared underneath him, only for another one to form. Damn it, Shade wasn’t fucking around tonight. “Think about it: she’s made of _shadows._ Shadows need light in order to be seen…but only a _little_ light. Too much—”

Ladybug’s eyes widened in understanding.

“—And they disappear,” she finished for him, returning Adrien’s proud grin with a smirk. As he leapt out of the way of another patch of black quicksand, Ladybug, now submerged to her hips, drew her arm back, sending out her yo-yo towards the light control panel set up next to the stage. It was far, and if Adrien didn’t know just how long her magic yo-yo could stretch, he would worry it would never make it—

But Ladybug’s luck held—her yo-yo smashed into the control panel, and light flooded the room once more.

“ _Aiyeeeeeeee!!!_ ” Shade screamed, the sound excruciating as her form tore itself _apart_ , scraps of darkness fleeing the stage. Her power broke, and Adrien found that Ladybug and Emerald Shell were not stuck in the floor like he expected they would be, but just standing on top of it. Which made him wonder…had they even been sinking in the first place? Or had that been one of Shade’s famous illusions?

He watched as Ladybug and Shell exchanged similar bewildered looks, but Shell was the one to shrug it off first.

“Way to think on your feet, LB.”

“It was Adrien’s idea,” Ladybug admitted, side-glancing at him almost furtively, causing him to blush. Emerald Shell gave him a grin and a thumbs up, which was odd in its own respect; he was not used to positive reinforcement from the turtle man.

“Nice going, dude.” His expression abruptly returned to grim as he approached, shrugging his shield back onto his back. “We’ve gotta go after her.”

“Right,” Ladybug agreed, though she pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Finding a shadowy villain in the middle of the night…god, the headache’s coming already.”

“I know it's the City of Lights and all, but we've still gotta try,” Shell pointed out, though he gave a sympathetic pat to Ladybug’s shoulder. “Hopefully Whiskers’ll show up soon; then we’ll have more manpower.”

Adrien blinked in surprise.

“You actually want Chat Noir to show up?” He blurted out without thinking, blood draining from his face when he realized he had spoken out of turn. Well, it wasn’t like he said ‘me’ or anything, but still…

Emerald Shell gave him an odd look.

“Well he’s part of the team, y’know?” he said with a casual shrug, and Adrien found himself conflicted. “Anyway, you and that model should head home, dude. Uh, not together, of course,” he hastily corrected himself with a shifty glance at Ladybug. Adrien stared, his neck prickling. That look was suspicious…almost like—

“We’ve gotta go, Shell,” Ladybug interrupted, stealing Adrien’s attention before he could follow his thought pattern to its conclusion.

“Right. Be careful, dude,” Shell bade him before he turned and ran for the exit, Ladybug following him.

Or she tried to, anyway.

“Ladybug!” Adrien cried, catching hold of her arm before she could get far. She turned back to him, bluebell eyes wide, lips parted in surprise. With that expression, he was able to see under the mask, through to Marinette’s face. And that made this harder, because he was _scared_ for her.

There was a good chance that Shade knew who she was. Adrien was already compromised, but it might not be too late for Ladybug, if he could just tell her—

Ladybug turned her head away from him as pink colored her cheeks. This distracted Adrien—what did she have to be embarrassed over?

Her flower shaped earrings caught the light, glinting just above her Ladybug Miraculous. This distracted Adrien too, amusing him a little. He didn’t know whether or not Ladybug knew her extra piercings would appear along with her transformation, but he supposed it was a moot point anyway, seeing as how he knew everything. Still, it amused him to wonder how he would have reacted to seeing them if he hadn’t started to connect the dots on Valentine’s Day…

“Adrien…” Ladybug said quietly, glancing at him and then away again. Her skittish expression was familiar; she probably thought he wanted to confront this unspoken understanding between them. ‘ _Not yet,_ ’ her eyes pleaded with him when she glanced his way again. And though that discussion was not his reason for distracting Ladybug from her line of duty, it made him wonder when she _would_ be ready to have this conversation…or if she would ever be ready to have it at all.

But they were questions for another time. As Adrien loosened his grip on Ladybug, he frowned, twice as concerned about her well-being, now that he knew the truth.

“Be careful,” he told her…though it came out more like an order; his tone was unintentionally stern. Oops.

To this…Ladybug smirked.

“Don’t worry,” she said, raising the arm he had finally released and clenching her hand into a determined fist. “I’ve got this.”

Of course she had it. She was the miraculous _Ladybug_ , after all.

Adrien nodded, watching as Ladybug bounded for the exit, her long pigtails bouncing behind her. At the door, she paused.

“I just hope my partner shows up soon,” she said idly, her eyes twinkling as she glanced at him from her peripheral vision. “I’m kind of unbalanced without him.”

Adrien snorted as she finally left, hoisting Giselle higher into his arms, determined to get her somewhere safe as quickly as possible before he transformed and came to the aid of his teammates. Again, Ladybug’s parting words reverberated in his mind, and he shook his head.

“You always have that backwards, My Lady.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
> BTU the Word Document is about...six pages away from being a nine-hundred page document.
> 
> *Looks into the camera like on The Office*
> 
> My life is a sham.
> 
> A-N-Yway, hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	31. Anarchy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHHH. I'm not here.
> 
> If anybody asks, I was working on my giveaway fics this whole time.
> 
> (Enjoy! <3)
> 
> ~Reyna

Shade turned out to be a lot more slippery than Emerald Shell was comfortable with.

They weren’t even finished searching the area surrounding the _Louvre_ yet, and already, he was ready to quit. He groaned and slumped over after ten minutes of searching, almost dislodging his goggles as he rubbed at his face.

“Damn it, she _vanished._ We’re basically chasing a shadow at this point. Whose bright idea was this?”

“Yours,” Ladybug reminded him, and Shell cringed to himself, straightening up.

“Oh yeah…well, this may be a job that’s too big for two heroes, y’know? If only the guy who actually has _night vision_ was here, but I guess he’s slacking off somewhere—”

“I’d _really_ rather you talk shit to my face, you mean, green, veggie-eating machine,” drawled a voice right on cue, and Shell gave a perfunctory roll of his eyes as he turned around to spot Chat Noir crouched on one of the streetlights overhead. Never in his life would he outright admit it, but he was actually glad to see the catty bastard.

“Well, talking shit behind your back seems to be the fastest way to get you here, just so you can say something back,” Shell pointed out as Chat leapt from the streetlight, landing smoothly in front of him and Ladybug. Shell squinted as the reformed hero straightened up, green cat’s eyes glittering. Huh. There was something different about him...

“Nice haircut,” Ladybug commented, smiling as she reached up and tugged lightly on one of Chat Noir’s wild blonde locks.

‘ _Oh,_ ’ thought Shell as the comment immediately placed the change for him; Chat Noir’s hair _was_ shorter, wasn’t it? Since it was just as messy as usual, he almost hadn’t noticed that the guy’s ponytail was now missing.

Chat’s gaze slanted towards Ladybug, as it always did, amusement playing across his face.

“Nice earrings,” he returned. Shell frowned as something silent passed between them, the both of them appearing entertained for some unknown reason. He cleared his throat to remind them that, once again, he still existed. They glanced over at him, giving him their attention, but they didn’t bother jumping away from each other like they normally did, whenever Shell caught them in a moment that threatened to get too personal.

Emerald Shell’s frown deepened at this, and he made a mental note to talk to Ladybug later.

“Hello? Villain to catch?” He prompted them. “Notorious shadow villain who also happens to be turning people into monsters, loose in the city?”

“Oh, right,” Chat mumbled, prompting Shell to stare at him.

‘Oh, right’? That was a really weird answer coming from him, considering he hadn’t been there when the baddie reveal had gone down…

Chat blinked at the look Shell was giving him, and he suddenly looked skittish.

“I, uh, was watching the fashion show on TV when Sh—that _thing_ showed up,” he said, rubbing the back of his head as he glanced away from Shell. “I-it looked serious, so I rushed on over here!”

…Okay. Something was still bothering him about Chat’s response, but Shell couldn’t place it at the moment. And besides, the TV thing made sense; it was how Shell had found out that things weren’t on the up and up as well. He had had to vanish on Alya, unfortunately: they had been watching it together, wanting to support Marinette, even if it was from Nino’s couch across the city. But the moment the shadow thing began to constrict the Ladybug model, Nino regretfully informed his fiancée that he had to go to the bathroom, and had escaped into the night through his window. God, this was going to be a pain to explain later…

Shell shook himself from chagrined thoughts of that future headache, focusing on his teammates instead.

“Yeah, the Butterfly dude just revealed himself tonight. Turns out it’s a chick—the Shade lady LB told us about a while back. She just showed up and ruined that fashion show, so now we gotta track her ass down…or would you two rather stand here and trade compliments all night?”

Shell gave them a flat look, as if daring them to continue flirting in front of him. Ladybug and Chat Noir exchanged one more glance before they stepped away from each other, their game faces on.

“Let’s split up,” Ladybug directed, shifting into leader mode. “Chat, you take the west side of the city. Shell, you take the east. I’ll take the south. If you happen to spot her, _do not engage her._ Call us for back-up. We’ll rendezvous at the Eiffel Tower in an hour. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Chat and Shell replied at the same time, each giving her a salute before exchanging bemused glances. Ladybug rolled her eyes and smirked, whirling her yo-yo and swinging away to her self-assigned corner of the city. Shell removed his shield, ready to go, but—

“Shell,” Chat called, stalling him. Emerald Shell turned to give him a strange look. What, no stupid nickname this time? Or was he waiting for a set-up?

As Shell prepared himself to fire off a comeback to whatever smart-aleck quip Chat Noir was about to shoot at him, he noticed the speculative gaze on the cat man’s face. Shell raised an eyebrow under his domino mask.

“What?” Why was Chat Noir looking at him like that, like he was conflicted? What was the problem?

The cat man rubbed the back of his head, looking uncomfortable. Something about the gesture struck Shell, and he frowned thoughtfully. Huh…weird. He had never actually seen Chat Noir unsure of himself…and it was strange, this weird sense of déjà vu he was getting from just that look—

Chat glanced up, his eyes meeting Shell’s.

“…Stay safe,” he said, before he extended his staff, propelling himself upward into the air before he launched forward, heading for the west side of Paris. Shell could only stare after him for a moment, confused.

What…that was it? That was all he wanted to say? ‘Stay safe’? What was that supposed to mean? Did he think Shell was going to fuck up and get himself caught by the villain?

…Or…or was Chat Noir genuinely _concerned_ about him…?

Shell didn’t know how to feel about that, so he put the matter out of his mind and headed for his assigned corner of the city, determined. If Shade was dumb enough to remain out and about, then they would sniff her out, even if it meant chasing shadows for an hour.

But their antagonist hadn’t remained hidden for so long by accident; an hour came and went, and though Shell didn’t really expect to find anything, it was with low spirits that he flew to the Eiffel Tower to report in. A flash of annoyance went through him when he noticed that Ladybug and Chat Noir had beat him there; he didn’t like the thought of them alone together for an undefined period of time. As he landed, he intended to barge into their intimate moment in the most obnoxious way possible…but as he approached, he noticed that they were sitting a little apart from each other, staring in different directions, the air around them awkward.

This made him curious: had they seen him coming and hastened to distance themselves? Or had something happened that cause some sort of discomfort between them?

Whatever the reason, they both seemed to be relieved when Shell appeared—a nice change of pace, admittedly. He plopped down in between them, and they scooted over to make room for him.

“So?”

“Nothing,” Shell answered Ladybug’s query with a huff.

“Me, too,” she replied solemnly.

“Me, three,” Chat chimed in, looking as disgruntled as Shell felt. “Still, it was a long shot. Hunting for a villain that can literally manipulate shadows? At _night_? I know this is the City of Lights, but too much light doesn’t exactly help us either, does it?”

Ladybug sighed, getting to her feet. Shell watched with a frown as she paced away from them and back again, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

“This is a disaster,” she stated baldly. Shell concurred. Still, he hated to see Ladybug’s frustrated expression, and so he sat up, locking gazes with her.

“I know things are bullshit right now, LB, but it’ll be all right.”

Ladybug let out an irritable huff.

“Shell, we’ve just found out that everything we thought about the Butterfly was _wrong._ Instead of having Shade as a sidekick, they’re the _same person_ , using _two_ Miraculous! I didn’t even know that was _possible!_ ”

“Yeah,” Shell said reluctantly, frowning as he rubbed his chin. “That _did_ throw us for a loop…we’re gonna have to visit Master Fu soon.” He side-glanced at Chat, who was watching their conversation attentively. “…All of us,” Shell added to make his meaning clear. Chat blinked at him, looking startled. Shell looked away, refusing to be embarrassed. What, was it so weird for him to act like they were a team? Besides, the cat bastard started it, with all his ‘stay safe’ talk.

“Uh,” Chat began, tearing his eyes from Shell to focus on Ladybug. “I don’t want to stress you out further, Ladybug, but…there’s something you and Shell should know.”

“Whaaat?” Shell groaned, shooting an exhausted frown Chat’s way. Honestly, how much more bad news could they all take tonight?

Ladybug crouched down and nudged Shell, probably for his tone.

“What is it, Chat?” She asked, concern in her eyes as she gazed at Chat Noir, who shifted, resting an arm on an upraised knee as he stared out at the city.

“…Well, I don’t know this for sure…” Chat’s eyes tightened. He took a deep breath before his eyes flicked over to them once again, grim. “…But I think Shade knows who I am.” He tapped at his mask. “Underneath this, I mean.”

Ladybug became a statue beside Shell. He stared at her, alarmed at the horror that widened her eyes and slackened her mouth as she stared at Chat Noir.

Great—he had made her _cat_ atonic.

Shell paused, registering with some horror and disgust that he had _indeed_ made a cat pun within the confines of his own mind. He shook his head, disgusted with himself, and resolved to never let anyone know, _ever._

“What makes you think she knows who you are?” He deigned to ask when it was made apparent that Ladybug was currently beyond words. Chat shifted uncomfortably once again, rubbing the back of his head, ruffling his already messy blonde locks.

“…Just a feeling,” he said mysteriously, causing Shell to frown.

“That’s it? You’re going off a ‘feeling’?”

“I know it sounds dumb,” Chat relented with a sigh, frowning at Shell. “But…okay, so listen: seven years ago, when I meant to return the Butterfly Miraculous to Master Fu, I went there as my civilian self. I went in, but he wasn’t there, and when I was trying to figure out a good hiding place for it, something _flew_ at me. I could never make out what it was—it was just there and gone—and it snatched the Butterfly Miraculous from me. Think about it: awfully strange that Shade ended up with the Butterfly Miraculous if she didn’t have anything to do with its theft in the first place, right?”

“…Oh my god…” Ladybug finally spoke, and Shell turned to find her hands cupping her face, that look of horror still rounding her eyes as she stared at Chat. “When you came back…it was the first night. An akuma showed up that night…the first one in seven years…”

Chat’s solemn looked returned, his cat’s eyes serious.

“She knows,” he concluded grimly. “She knows I’m Chat Noir.”

A stunned silence followed, in which Ladybug and Chat Noir just stared at each other, communicating only with their eyes.

At least until Shell interrupted.

“Back up,” he said, glancing in between the two with a frown. “Let me get this straight…Chat Noir, you returned to crime-fighting the same night Patchwork appeared?”

Chat gave a self-deprecating grin.

“Well, it wasn’t so much ‘crime-fighting’, was it? But yeah. At the time, I just thought it was a hell of a coincidence, but—”

“Oh god,” Ladybug breathed again, covering her mouth with her hands now, but they weren’t enough to stop the horrified string of blaspheming that escaped from her. “Oh god oh god oh god oh _god_ —”

“LB,” Shell interceded, placing a hand on Ladybug’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “ _Breathe._ It’s gonna be okay.”

“How is _anything_ about this situation okay?!” Ladybug demanded to know, jumping to her feet once again and wrenching herself from Shell’s grasp. “The enemy knows Chat Noir’s secret identity! That is _dangerous!_ ”

“It’s a lot worse than that if I’m right about one other thing,” Chat continued, as if he was determined to bring their night to its lowest point, all by his own hand. “That shadow that attacked you in your apartment, Ladybug…was it her? Was it Shade?”

“Oh _shit,_ ” Shell huffed; he had nearly forgotten all about that. But now that Chat reminded him, his head swung around to stare at Ladybug, hoping against his common sense that she would deny it, that it had been something else, that it had been some inexplicable coincidence—

Ladybug’s expression shut down, her eyes growing haunted. Shell felt nausea roll through the pit of his stomach at such a look.

Slowly, Ladybug sank to her knees. She wobbled a little, and both Chat Noir and Shell reached out to steady her, a hand on either arm. She didn’t seem to register the assistance, her eyes aimed at the beam the sat on, eerily silent.

“LB…?”

“It was her,” she confirmed in a whisper, and Shell went cold. “She was in my room. She tried to attack me. It was her.”

…Shade knew that Ladybug was Marinette.

_Shade knew that Ladybug was Marinette!_

Suddenly, the world was spinning. Shell clamped tightly to the beam under them with his free hand, his mind reeling.

The enemy apparently knew two out of the three superheroes’ secret identities. This was not okay. It was the exact opposite of okay, in fact—it was _disastrous._ How could this have happened? Didn’t this mean that Shade now had the upper hand, that she could simply bide her time, until the urge to strike took over? What were they supposed to do now?!

“Don’t panic.”

The voice of reason coming from Chat Noir was strange to hear, but Shell still seized it, desperate for some relief from the downward spiral that was currently his mind. He looked to the cat man, startled to find that his hand was on Shell’s shoulder too, and Shell wondered with some chagrin if he had actually _swooned_ during that brief bout of panic. How embarrassing.

“Ladybug, look at me,” Chat commanded softly, and he and Shell waited until Ladybug’s dull eyes lifted, meeting his. Shell saw Chat Noir’s hand, which was currently resting on Ladybug’s arm, flex, as if to give her reassurance. “It may not be as bad as we think. There’s one other reason Shade might have attacked you.”

Ladybug stared at him, her expression uncomprehending.

“…What?” She asked, clearly not understanding. Neither did Shell, for that matter, but Chat didn’t seem to be concerned about that. In fact, with the way he glanced askance at him, it kind of seemed like he would rather be having this conversation with Ladybug alone.

Shell scowled. Tough shit—he wasn’t going anywhere. Whatever Chat had to say to Ladybug, he could say it with Shell present.

Chat paused; it seemed like he was trying to choose his words carefully.

“…Think about it,” he urged Ladybug after a moment, eyes boring into hers. “If Shade doesn’t know you’re Ladybug, why else would she go after you? What other reason would she have to target you, if she didn’t know about _your_ superhero persona?”

There was the slightest inflection here, as if Chat was trying to tell Ladybug something significant without actually saying it, due to present company. Still, Shell listened shamelessly, trying to work out the cryptic clues he was stealing. What did that mean? He wasn’t completely sure…but the way Chat phrased it…it almost sounded like…

Ladybug’s eyes came back to life, and Shell’s relief at that was so strong that he promptly forgot what he was thinking about.

“…” After a moment, she frowned. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Chat gave a half-shrug and a helpless smile.

“It’s not exactly the brightest ray of hope…” He grew serious again. “But I’m willing to take it.”

“ _I’m_ not.”

“Maybe not, but our choices are rather limited, My Lady.”

“What are you two _talking_ about?!” Shell finally burst out, fed up with this coded talk. Ladybug and Chat Noir jumped, startled, as if they had forgotten that he was there. _Again, ugh._

“Nothing,” Ladybug said hastily with an edgy glance thrown at Chat Noir. Shell’s scowl intensified; he had had _quite_ enough of the ‘nothing’ excuse.

“Bullshit. You two are leaving me out of the loop, _again,_ ” he insisted, including Chat Noir in the accusing stare he threw at Ladybug. “I’m tired of being treated like a sidekick. I thought we were a _team,_ Dots.”

“We are a team!” Ladybug protested, actually looking hurt that Shell dared to suggest otherwise. He glared, refusing to be softened, because she started it.

“Then why don’t I feel like I’m a part of it? Why are you guys keeping all these secrets from me? Am I a member of this team or not?”

“You definitely are,” Chat replied this time, surprising Shell with the lack of hesitance in such a reply. Inwardly, he reflected on the fact that, even since he had returned, Chat Noir hadn’t tried to shove Shell to the side or purposely exclude him in anything, though he _was_ complicit in the secrets Ladybug insisted on keeping from him. Still, the fact that he hadn’t tried to squeeze Shell out, no matter how much they antagonized each other, actually went a long way with Shell, and he found, if he searched his feelings, that it was not Chat Noir that was inspiring the most of his irritation.

It was the spotted hero who sat beside him who was putting him out, the only hero he knew outside of the mask, the one who was _supposed_ to be his friend. Maybe that’s why it stung so much when she refused to share—he thought they were in this together, but if he was the only one…

Giving a curt nod to Chat Noir to acknowledge his acceptance (he’d sort out how he felt about that later), Shell turned his attention fully to Ladybug, letting the weight of his hurt and accusation fall on her as he gave her an intense, searching stare.

“Then don’t you think it’s time to fill me in?” He asked of her.

Ladybug bit her lip as she searched his face. The sheepishness of her expression suggested to Shell that she finally seemed to realize just how much it bothered him when she acted like this stuff only concerned her and Chat. There was silence for a while…and then—

“You’re right,” Ladybug agreed, letting loose a sigh. “I’m so sorry, Shell. Of course you’re right. You’re a valued member of this team, and I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t.”

The apology was sincere, so Shell had no trouble accepting it. But he only did it mentally; outwardly, he waved a hand, inviting Ladybug to continue.

“So?”

“So…” Ladybug glanced over his shoulder, and Shell knew she was looking at Chat. He glanced back just in time to see the slight nod Chat gave her, like his permission had to be granted in order for her to share. Shell frowned at this, but his attention was immediately stolen when Ladybug laid a hand on his shoulder. “Here’s the deal, Shell—”

“Ladybug!”

The sudden cry startled all three of them, because it came from none of them, but below, through what sounded like a megaphone. Sure enough, when Shell looked down, he could just barely make out two figures below, one standing a little apart from the other, near a car. Well…this was different.

“Is that…” Chat began, and Shell glanced over, watching him squint at the screen on his baton, which brought the two figures into clear focus. “…The deputy mayor?”

“Is it?” Ladybug questioned, leaning over Shell to get a look at Chat’s baton screen. “What’s she doing here?”

“Interrupting, conveniently enough,” grumbled Shell, and he caught Ladybug’s apologetic look before he nudged her back and stood up with a huff. “We better go see what she wants.”

The other two heroes murmured in agreement, and on their own, they each scaled their way down the Eiffel Tower, landing a few paces from the figure that indeed turned out to be the deputy mayor, holding a megaphone. Her appearance was a surprise all on its own, but Shell was further confused to find that the person who accompanied her was no one other than Felix Chevalier, Adrien’s cousin and creep extraordinaire, according to Marinette. Wasn’t he supposed to be the _mayor’s_ assistant?

‘ _Well, now that I’m thinking about it, the actual mayor’s nothing but a figurehead, isn’t he?_ ’ Shell reasoned to himself as Ladybug approached Bridgette, shaking her hand. ‘ _It always seems like Bridgette’s actually calling the shots._ ’

“What can we do for you, Depu—ah, Bridgette?” Ladybug inquired, catching herself at the last minute with an apologetic grin. The slip didn’t seem to bother Bridgette…actually, now that he was looking closely at her, Shell couldn’t help but note how tense the deputy mayor appeared—

“Ladybug, you have to come back with us,” she entreated, gesturing between herself and Felix. Shell spared him a brief glance, but he wasn’t looking in his direction—his cool blue gaze was focused on Chat Noir, who stared back at him, both of their expressions unreadable. Shell quirked a brow underneath his mask. What was with them…?

“Bridgette, slow down,” Shell heard Ladybug direct, and his attention returned to the stressed deputy mayor, who seemed to be babbling. “Take a deep breath, and start again. What exactly is the problem?”

Bridgette did as she was directed, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before she opened them again, her blue eyes troubled.

“Well, we were waiting for you to come to City Hall for the peace rally we’ve been planning—”

“That was tonight?!” Ladybug yelped, looking abashed. “Oh, Bridgette, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to forget, I—uh, there’s a lot going on—”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Bridgette cut across her, her expression tensing more and more with every second that passed. “You just have to come back with us, Ladybug. All of you do, in fact,” she added, glancing at Shell, and then to Chat Noir, her face reddening inexplicably when he made eye contact with her. “Things have—oh, it’s no use explaining, just please, come back with us. You’ll see.”

The heroes exchanged glances.

“Why don’t we just meet you there…?” Shell asked, nudging his shield off his back. “It’d probably be a lot faster—”

“No,” Bridgette denied him with a swift shake of her head. “They can’t see you coming. We have to sneak you in.”

Team Miraculous glanced at each other once again, perplexed.

“Wha—”

“There’s no time,” a curt voice cut in, and Shell glanced over to find Felix frowning at all of them, opening the back door of what appeared to be his car. “Get in.”

Ladybug scowled at him; it was clear she hated being ordered around by him. Chat Noir was frowning, too, though it appeared to Shell that he was sizing Felix up, as if wondering if he could take him in a fight. Neither of them made a move, and so Shell sighed, grabbing one arm each of his teammates and dragging them forward.

“C’mon,” he insisted, giving them significant looks. “We can finish our discussion later. Must be important if the deputy mayor herself came all this way to find us.”

That seemed to snap Ladybug out of her stubbornness, and Chat Noir out of whatever reverie the sight of Felix had put him in. When they reached the car, Shell gestured that Ladybug should get in first, and he followed after her, leaving Chat Noir to take the left window seat.

Bridgette approached next, looking harried, but was deterred from getting in the car by Felix insisting he open the door for her.

“Oh, Felix, that isn’t ness—” Her protests were cut short when the car door opened, and Felix gestured for her to get in. She ducked her head, her cheeks warming a little as she muttered quiet thanks to him, situating herself in the passenger seat before Felix shut the door for her. Beside Shell, Ladybug muffled a giggle.

They pulled away from the Eiffel Tower at top speed. With them all squished in together like that, Shell started to feel claustrophobic. His bulky shield didn’t help matters, and the feeling wasn’t soothed when Chat began sneezing nonstop.

“What the hell’s with you, Sniffles?” Shell finally burst out in frustration after the tenth or eleventh consecutive sneeze. “Did you develop an allergic reaction to cat hair or something?”

“I’m only allergic to assholes,” Chat quipped back, looking quite grumpy as he rubbed at his red nose. “And feathers.”

“Do you have a pet bird, Felix?” Bridgette inquired idly. Shell watched as Felix’s expression twitched in his rearview mirror.

“Something like that,” he replied casually. Whatever follow-up questions involved there were lost in more of Chat Noir’s sneezes, and Shell had to remind himself not to shove his teammate out of a moving car, because while it (probably) wouldn’t kill him, harming a fellow teammate was a big no-no.

As they neared City Hall, there was a telltale pillar of smoke issuing from somewhere below the building, drawing Emerald Shell’s attention.

“The hell is that?” He asked of no one in particular.

It was Felix who answered.

“You’ll see.”

Shell rolled his eyes. He was so tired of cryptic answers.

“Don’t you think we should know what we’re getting into before we…we…”

Shell’s rant trailed off as they stopped in front of City Hall, gaping at the scene before him.

Anarchy.

That was the only way he could describe it. It was pure, unadulterated anarchy.

Everywhere he looked, there seemed to be people in face paint, rioting on the steps of City Hall, chanting loudly, flinging that hated purple goo at the horrified spectators and the police barricading them from the scene, spray-painting every conceivable surface with the logo of AVA. Somewhere in the middle of this mob, there was a large fire pit, smoking and burning brightly, with what looked suspiciously like a life-sized Chat Noir scarecrow burning in the center.

Akumatized Victims Anonymous was at it again.

“We are AVA! Give us peace, or you will pay!” The mob chanted as they shifted restlessly, never staying still, like a giant monster with limbs that thrashed so rapidly that it was hard to make out who was who and where. “We are AVA! Give us peace, or you will pay!”

“Oh my _god,_ ” Ladybug huffed for the nth time that night. She shoved the car door open, and Shell had to hasten out of the backseat himself and catch her arm to keep her from barging through the crowd that watched this flagrant display of rebellion.

“LB, hold up—”

“No!” Ladybug fussed immediately, wrenching her arm from Shell’s grip. “We have to _do_ something! This has gone on long enough!”

“What’re we supposed to do, fight them?” Shell inquired, frowning as Ladybug pinched the bridge of her nose and growled.

“I don’t know! What else _can_ we do?! I feel like we’ve tried everything else _but_ fighting at this point, and they just won’t listen! What else are we supposed to—”

“Violence isn’t the answer.”

Chat Noir had joined them; his expression was anxious as he paused beside Shell, staring at Ladybug.

“There’re some problems you just can’t fight your way through. You taught me that, Ladybug…remember?”

Ladybug’s lips parted, but it appeared she had nothing to say to that. After a moment, Shell could recognize the surrender in her eyes, and she sighed, running a hand down her face.

“You’re right,” she groaned, making Shell indignant until she added, “You’re both right. I’m sorry, it’s just…it’s too much. What can we do that we haven’t tried already? How can we finally get them to listen?”

Well…Shell had an idea. It was an old idea, but it was one they hadn’t tried yet. And since they were all at wits’ end already…it could be worth a shot…

“LB…” he began, stepping closer and lowering his voice. He was about to suggest his idea again when he realized something: if Ladybug agreed to this, it would exclude Chat Noir. Shell turned, frowning at the cat man. Any time before tonight, he would’ve been fine with leaving Chat out of something he just might make worse. But after tonight…after Chat had wished him safety when they split up…after he had stated that Shell was an undeniable part of Team Miraculous…and after Shell had damn near pitched a fit about being left out of the loop…

Chat seemed to register Shell’s speculative frown, but he took it the opposite way Shell meant it; he took a step back, looking awkward, as if he recognized this was something Shell didn’t want him to take part of.

That gesture and the look on his face shoved any lingering doubts Shell had about the cat man out of his mind for good. Because if he couldn’t trust his teammate, then he couldn’t really call himself a part of the team, could he?

“You get over here, too, Whiskers,” he demanded, jerking his head when Chat merely stared at him, as if he couldn’t believe Shell was asking him to join in this pow-wow. He even hesitated a moment, uncertainty in his gaze. Shell wasn’t having it: he leaned over, grabbing Chat’s arm and pulled him forward. Surprised, Chat stumbled, but Ladybug caught him, her hands lingering a little longer than Shell would have liked, but he brushed it aside for now, bowing their heads together as he muttered to them, for Bridgette and Felix were passing by; Bridgette was raising her megaphone, and it looked like she intended to attempt to calm AVA with words. Shell frowned at this.

“Listen…I know this might be a long shot, but it’s clear that they won’t listen to us, or anyone else in this damn city.”

He nodded towards where Bridgette was standing, just behind the police barricade, her pleas for peace going unheard, for AVA just chanted over her.

“It seems like nearly all the victims in the past are either in AVA, or on their side, but maybe…maybe if we have some people who _were_ akumatized in the past that don’t agree with their way of doing things talk to them…maybe if we drop the superhero bit for a minute and talk to them as ourselves…maybe, just _maybe_ , we can reach them. What do you think?”

Chat blinked, his eyes widening in comprehension.

“Do you mean…are you talking about…revealing ourselves?”

“Well, not in front of the angry mob or anything,” Shell amended with an edgy glance shot at AVA. “Just, y’know, we could find a quiet corner to de-transform. And it would be just us.”

“Oh,” Ladybug breathed; Shell saw recognition in her eyes as she seemed to remember him suggesting this once before. “Well…we _could_ try it…but I’ve never been akumatized, Shell.”

“Nor have I,” Chat Noir admitted, surprising Shell. He figured, with the way he behaved when he first returned to crime-fighting…ah, but that was neither here nor there right now. Besides, maybe it was a Miraculous thing, that you couldn’t be akumatized if you possessed a Miraculous…but those were questions for Master Fu, and for another time.

“Okay, then I’ll be the front man,” he suggested with a shrug, fine with this. He preferred talking to fighting anyway. Glancing at Chat Noir, Shell added, “Chat, I say this not because I don’t think you can do it, but because I want you to choose for yourself. It’d probably be a long shot for them to listen to you, since you probably don’t know a lot of the akumatized victims personally. So if you want, you can opt out of this.”

Chat’s gaze flickered between him and Ladybug, his eyes intense.

“…Do you know a lot of them? Personally?” He asked carefully, his gaze settling on Ladybug.

…Oh shit. Didn’t Emerald Shell just put Ladybug in a difficult position? Damn it, he totally did. Sure, it was fine for Shell and her to reveal themselves, but that’s only because they knew about each other already. But with Chat Noir, who was the only enigma here, the only wild card—

“Yes,” Ladybug answered before Shell could begin beating himself up over his slip of the tongue; he glanced over to find her expression grave. Now Chat’s gaze switched to Shell, narrowing, as if…as if he was trying to see through his mask.

Shell blinked. Whoa…was it really so important for Chat to know who _he_ was? He would’ve figured Ladybug’s identity would be more important to him, but—

“I know this is asking a lot,” Shell admitted, frowning at his teammates. “We’ve never actually…talked about revealing ourselves to each other…and I know it’s supposed to be some big taboo thing with our kwamis or whatever, but damn, the situation’s kind of dire, don’t you think?”

“WE ARE AVA! GIVE US PEACE OR YOU WILL PAY!”

Ladybug glanced over at the riot, at Bridgette’s pointless attempts to make them see reason, something hardening in her eyes when her gaze returned to her teammates.

“And if we can’t trust each other…” She trailed off, only for Chat Noir to pick up her sentence.

“Then who can we trust?”

“Exactly,” Shell agreed, the three of them nodding separately to show that they understood each other perfectly. “So, maybe this isn’t the right time or whatever, but considering the situation…can we put all future discussions of identities to the side to try and solve this AVA issue, once and for all?”

Shell waited, watching the other two for their reactions. As good as he thought this idea was, he would not go through with it if there was a single shred of doubt or reservation on Chat Noir or Ladybug’s part. He would not pressure them into being so vulnerable if they would only regret it later, so if there was the tiniest bit of hesitation…

Chat Noir and Ladybug looked at each other for a long time. Shell let them be this time around, knowing that this decision meant more to them than it did to him.

And finally, after a moment that seemed to take forever—

“Okay,” Ladybug agreed at last. Something in Chat’s eyes warmed, and he nodded.

“Okay,” he concurred.

“Okay,” Shell concluded, suddenly feeling a little nervous. He never thought he’d be put in a situation where he would discover the secret identity of Chat Noir, but his life had gone screwy ever since he received his Miraculous; what was one more absurdity to the pile?

Glancing around quickly, he crouched down a little more, bringing Ladybug and Chat Noir with him.

“Okay, now the tricky part: we have to find a place to—”

An uproar from the AVA members wreaking havoc on the steps of City Hall distracted Shell. He glanced up to see what they were all reveling at—

In the highest window of City Hall, Shell could just barely make out a tall figure. He was finishing up a spray-painted message on the window, which seemed to be inspiring AVA’s cheering:

_WE’RE IN._

The figure gave a thumbs up, and then promptly disappeared.

“No!” Bridgette turned back to them, looking terrified. “Ladybug, _please!_ The _mayor’s_ in there!!!”

_Shit._

There went Plan A…

“Plan B?” Chat asked, his eyes narrowed.

“Plan B,” Ladybug and Shell agreed, and as one, they escaped the crowd of gaping onlookers and flew into the air, heading for the front doors of City Hall. The AVA members rioting outside of City Hall attempted to stop them—Shell now realized that they were meant to be the distraction—but short of lobbing those annoying goo balls at them, there wasn’t much they could do. Team Miraculous kicked open the doors and slammed them shut against the AVA members chasing after them, Chat using his baton as an impromptu lock.

“The mayor’s office is upstairs,” Ladybug reminded them, looking fierce as she sped towards the stairs. “Come on!”

As he and Chat raced after their leader, Shell’s mind whirled furiously. He didn’t actually believe AVA would be stupid enough to harm the _mayor_ of all people, but this break-in wasn’t encouraging. Just what the hell did they think they were doing?!

Just as they reached the hall where Mayor Fantoche’s office was situated, their appearance was intercepted.

“Whoa, whoa,” called Dark Cupid as he approached, one hand raised (Shell spotted an incriminating spray can in his free hand), his smirk all mischief. “Sorry, Team Miraculous, but the mayor is having a _very_ important meeting with our leader right now. They asked not to be disturbed.”

Shell opened his mouth to attempt to reason with the guy, but Ladybug got there first, stomping up to Dark Cupid and glaring at him so fiercely that his eyebrows shot up, and he looked slightly cowed, despite being much taller than the spotted hero.

“Kim, if you don’t get _out of the way, I swear to GOD_ —”

Shell knew Ladybug wouldn’t hurt Kim, but at the same time, he was grateful for the silent, clawed hand that wrapped around one of her wrists, as if to ground her, to remind her who she was and what was at stake. She didn’t move, settling for glaring furiously at Kim, who glanced nervously over at a hooded figure behind him…huh. Had they been standing there the whole time?

Whoever was under that hood seemed to return Kim’s glance…and they gave a shrug, as if it didn’t matter to them whether or not Team Miraculous threw a wrench in their misbehavior for the night. Kim frowned at this, but when he seemed out of ideas, he had no choice but to step aside. Ladybug brushed past him, and Emerald Shell and Chat Noir followed her as she threw the doors open to the mayor’s office.

At a glance, Shell could tell that the room was large and handsomely decorated, but he couldn’t focus on it long enough to take in details—his attention was drawn immediately to the mayor sitting behind his desk, looking nothing short of alarmed, and the short figure perched cross-legged on top of his desk, looking casual as anything. She glanced over when the doors were thrown open, looking annoyed at the interruption. When she spotted who it was, however…

“Well well, look who decided to join the party after all!” Alix crowed, grinning and saluting them as she turned to face them. “If it isn’t the heroes of Paris!” Her blue gaze slid over to Chat Noir, becoming condescending in an instant. “Plus one hypocrite. What’re you doing here, Black Cat? Was our barbecue outside too subtle for you?”

Beside Shell, Chat Noir stiffened. Shell could still see smoke coming from the pyre outside, and he grit his teeth. The paintings hadn’t bothered him so much, for they were mean-spirited at worst, comical at best, but _this_ —

“Alix, this _needs_ to stop,” Ladybug scolded, stepping carefully into the room. Shell noticed the way Alix leaned forward, as if she was about to hop to her feet and fight, and his hand strayed to the strap of his shield, ready to slide it off and use it to defend whoever he needed to.

“Seriously,” he tacked on, edging into the room as well, keeping his gaze carefully on Alix. “We get that you’re angry, Alix, but whatever you’re about to do here isn’t really helping your cause.”

A troubling thought suddenly occurred to him—if shit went down, they could get jumped by Kim and his silent partner at any time. He turned, wondering if it wasn’t better for him to be protecting Ladybug and Chat’s backs…but then he saw that Chat was already on it, his back turned to Alix as he watched Kim and his friend, who eyed him warily in turn. God, if the tension in this place got any worse, someone was bound to explode.

Alix’s noise of impatience drew Shell’s attention back to her.

“It’s _Timebreaker._ And says who?” She challenged with a sneer. “Don’t you read history books, Turtle Boy? No change occurs without a riot or two.”

“You’re _harassing the mayor of Paris,_ ” Chat pointed out, turning to eye Alix critically. “How is _this_ supposed to help your cause?”

Alix’s eyelids lowered dangerously.

“Well, no one’s flinging _bombs_ , for one thing,” she said dryly, and Shell could hear Kim scoffing from the doorway behind them. “And we’re not harassing anyone, just having a friendly chat with the good mayor of the city about a few changes we think could benefit Paris. That’s _allowed,_ isn’t it?” She straightened up from her slouch, openly glaring at Chat Noir. “The only thing that’s _really_ getting hurt here is probably your feelings, Chat Noir…that is, if you still _have_ any in that cold, dead heart of yours—”

“ _Stop_ it!” Ladybug burst out, and the tension increased as she stomped her foot, as if she could not stand to hear another word against Chat Noir. “Alix, this _isn’t_ right!! I know you want things to change, and we’re _trying_ to help! But you’re not making it any easier with this insanity! I’ve _never_ been so disappointed in you!”

Alix’s eyebrows disappeared behind her bangs as she stared at Ladybug. The way she went quiet made Shell nervous, especially when she suddenly hopped down from Mayor Fantoche’s desk. Shell raised his shield, but she did not approach them. Instead, she made her way delicately around the desk, and it was almost comical, the way the mayor flinched away from her short stature as she drew near him. She ignored him, heading instead for the large window that had been spray-painted with Kim’s message. She climbed onto the windowsill, threw the latch, and pushed. The window opened, its panes swinging away under Alix’s force, and suddenly, they could hear all the noise from the outside—the other members of AVA still chanting, the confused churning of the onlookers, Bridgette still trying valiantly to restore the peace.

“Megaphone,” Alix suddenly said, and the hooded figure from before passed Team Miraculous as they entered the large room, swift steps making the cloak billow about them. Shell could only see a brown-gloved hand as the hooded figure reached forward, passing off a megaphone with AVA’s logo carved into it onto Alix. Alix nodded, and the hooded figure retreated, giving no other hints to their identity away, no matter how hard Shell stared at them as they passed. Weird—AVA already had the face paint and everything. Was the cloak really necessary? What did _this_ particular AVA member have to hide…?

The identity of the mystery figure quickly became a non-issue; as Alix’s megaphone crackled to life with a high-pitched squeal, the noise outside died down, and Shell could just imagine her faithful followers staring up at her, awestruck. And even _he_ had to grudgingly admit, she _did_ look kind of impressive—with the smoke billowing into the night sky before her, and the way she stood ready for a fight, it was almost as if she were Jeanne d’ Arc, come back from her own funeral pyre to punish those who dared to oppose her.

Throwing a sharp glance at them over her shoulder, Alix brought the megaphone to her lips.

“You wanna hear something funny? And by ‘funny’, I mean _stupid?_ ” Without waiting for an answer, Alix continued, “Ladybug’s here right now, with her merry band of misfit heroes. She _rudely_ interrupted my meeting with the mayor, and then she has the _nerve_ to claim that she’s disappointed with _me!_ ”

The displeasure was clearly voiced from the AVA members below. Shell noticed Ladybug tense, and together, he and Chat stepped forward, silently letting her know that they still stood with her, no matter what.

Alix turned to the side, allowing her to glare at Ladybug as she continued to address her followers below.

“…You know what disappoints _me_ , Ladybug? A hero who chooses to fraternize with a ‘reformed’ hero who, just a few months ago, would gladly see _us_ burning in that fire down there instead of _him._ I’m disappointed by a hero who claims she wants to help, but then comes up with some _bullshit plan_ about a _peace_ rally. I mean, what the fuck is up with _that?_ Instead of telling us to stand and fight, you want us to sit down and be _quiet_? You really expect us to _accept_ that? We, who have been accused of evil beyond our control, and _you_ , who should know better than _anybody else_ what we have to go through because of it? Are you telling us to lay down and die?!”

By this point, Alix was back on top of Mayor Fantoche’s desk, shouting through her megaphone at them, the volume making Shell wince, despite the largeness of the room. Her voice still carried out the open window, and the members of AVA answered her speech with furious cries.

Shell swallowed, uncomfortable. Once again, he was made aware of the fact that he _sympathized_ with AVA a lot more than he should. As one of the heroes of Paris, he could not abide nor condone such behavior…but as a previously akumatized victim…

_“Imagine having people hate you for something you had no control over. Imagine someone you once thought was a hero turn his back on you and condemn you for being used in a psychopath’s quest for magic jewelry, or world domination or whatever._

_“Imagine finally, finally gaining the power to do something about it, to fight back…only to have your other hero welcome back the threat you were fighting against the minute he changes his tune._

_“…Imagine that hero being one of your best friends, one of the best people you know, who you’d hate to see hurt again, all because she was a little too forgiving and put her faith in the wrong person.”_

Emerald Shell shivered, his own words, thoughts, and feelings from the past surging back to haunt him, and he _hated_ himself when he felt his sympathy swelling. It didn’t matter how he felt about things in the past, not anymore: this was the present, and right now, from where he was standing, looking up at Alix—Timebreaker—their anger was justified, there was no doubting that.

But the execution of that anger…?

Shell stared at the quivering mayor, his expression making it clear that he was terrified something was going to happen to him; he thought of the faces of the horrified onlookers who had turned up for a peace rally, and had received chaos instead; he thought of the Chat Noir scarecrow burning in the middle of the fire pit outside. He cringed.

No. This was not right. They had every right to be angry, but all of this madness…there had to be a better way. There _had_ to be.

But Alix apparently would not be moved. As the chanting renewed in force behind her, Alix cried over all of it, her eyes burning as fiercely as the pyre outside:

“Well we will _not_ sit down and be quiet! We will _not_ lay down and die! We are Akumatized Victims Anonymous, and if you think we’re a problem, then we’ll _give_ _you a fucking problem!!_ ”

Emerald Shell would say this for Alix—she could give a rallying speech like nobody’s business. It was almost like she was growing taller, her little fist raised in the air in answer to the cries of her comrades looking on outside—

_THWACK._

It happened too fast. Shell couldn’t process properly, so the scene before him was fragmented:

Alix, spinning through the air, her eyes wide with shock.

Gasps from both Ladybug and Chat Noir, and probably even from him, though he was unaware of making such a noise.

Mayor Fantoche, standing behind his desk and panting, some sort of award clutched within one of his hands.

Nobody moved. Nobody even seemed to breathe.

The only person who was in motion was Alix—the force with which the mayor had hit her sent her toppling off the desk, arcing almost gracefully through the air for one second…

And then she hit the floor with a dull thud. Shell stared at her crumpled form, too shocked to properly register that he should be doing something about this. He was waiting for Alix to get back up, for her to jump to her feet and start raging against the mayor who somehow had the _nerve_ to strike her.

But she didn’t. No matter how long Emerald Shell waited, whether it was the space of a heartbeat or an eternity, Alix did not get back up.

There was an outcry, both from outside and in. The members of AVA must have witnessed what had occurred from down below, and they were screaming, their voices paired with Kim’s, who was shouting behind Shell as he just stood there, staring at Alix’s limp form.

“What have you done?! _What the fuck have you done?!_ ”

“Mayor Fantoche!” Ladybug cried, sounding _horrified._ “What did you just _do?!_ ”

“It’s not my fault!” Mayor Fantoche abruptly burst out, and Shell tore his gaze from Alix to see him sweating and trembling, his shaking hands dropping the award he’d used to club Alix. “I-I thought she was going to attack me! She was screaming like a banshee, and-and—she’s an _akuma!_ ” He cried hysterically. “You’re really going to _judge_ me for wanting to defend myself against an _akuma?!_ They’re all hoodlums, all of them! Tearing the city apart and carrying on like this—they _all_ should be locked up!!”

“You _motherfucker!!!_ ” Screamed Kim, his face contorted in rage and anguish as he stormed into the room. “ _I’ll fucking kill you!!_ ”

“Kim, no!” Shell cried, whirling around and raising his shield as he stepped in Kim’s way. It absolutely _disgusted_ him to have to defend the mayor after what he had just done, but when the alternative was letting a citizen—a citizen half of Paris already feared simply because he was an akumatized victim—brutalize an authority figure…

There was a great deal of clattering behind him, and Ladybug shouted in alarm. Mayor Fantoche was making a break for it, sprinting as fast as his legs would carry him to a side door on the left of the room.

“HEY!” Kim cried as Chat Noir and Ladybug pursued the mayor; he took a furious step in their direction, and Shell dived in his way, shield still raised—

There was an abrupt flash of orange, the shedding of a cloak, and another figure was suddenly in front of Shell.

Shell gaped at the back of this figure, because it was _impossible_. She shouldn’t be there, it was _impossible!_

But there she was.

“No!” She cried, throwing out her arms and thrusting Kim back. “Forget about him! Get Timebreaker, _Timebreaker!_ She needs a hospital, and we need to go! Now!”

Shell watched as Kim grit his teeth, but one glance at Alix was all it took to apparently convince him; as the woman in the orange jumpsuit jumped onto the mayor’s desk, leaping onto the windowsill, Kim sprinted for Alix. There was a tender moment in which he cradled Alix’s broken form to him; Shell couldn’t put a name to the depth of agony in Kim’s features as he gazed down at his fallen leader, and he didn’t want to try.

“AVA!” Cried the orange jumpsuit-clad woman, fox ears sticking out of her dark hair. “Retreat!”

Kim raced over to the woman, clasping her outstretched hand. Together, they leapt from the windowsill.

“Wait!” Shell found himself crying, stunned at the fact that they had just jumped from a fucking _window—_

His worry was baseless; when he jumped to the window, he spotted them, touching down on the ground harmlessly, thanks to the foxy lady. As Shell gaped from the window, the front doors of City Hall burst open, and Ladybug and Chat Noir emerged, glancing around hurriedly, as if they had lost something.

Shell jumped from the windowsill as well, onto his hoverboard, speeding towards the stairs below as the fox lady raised a clenched fist. He called out again for them to wait, leaping off his hoverboard the moment he was close enough to land safely, because he had to get a good look at this woman, he _had_ to—

As if she knew this, the woman in the fox costume paused, but only for one second longer—her dark green eyes surveyed him for a brief moment…and then she tossed what she was holding in front of her.

The stairs erupted in thick smoke, engulfing everything, Shell included. He coughed and wheezed for air, crouching lower to the stairs as he waved a hand in front of his face to dispel the smoke. As he coughed, his mind dwelled on those eyes he had seen.

They were dark green.

In other words, they were too dark to be Alya’s eyes, so that couldn’t have possibly been her.

But then…how—?

“Shell!” He heard Ladybug cry from somewhere within the smoke. Her call was followed by a fit of coughs, and Shell winced. “Shell, are you okay?!”

“I’m good!” Shell called back after a cough or two of his own. “Just—” he gave a wheezing cough, “—damn this smoke!”

“Here, hold on!” Called Chat Noir’s voice, and Shell heard the sound of something whipping through the air. A couple minutes later, the air cleared enough for Shell to breathe properly, and he straightened up, glancing around. Chat slowly lowered his baton from where he had been spinning it, wincing as he rubbed at one of his eyes.

“G-good thinking,” Shell wheezed, deciding that compliments needed to be given when they were due. Chat blinked in surprise at that, and an uncertain quirk of his lips turned into a tentative smile.

“Thanks.” His gaze went to Ladybug next, who climbed down a stair or two closer to Shell, a hand pressed over her mouth. “My Lady, are you all right?”

“Yes.” But Ladybug huffed like she wasn’t all right, glaring into the building. “Fantoche got away.”

“How did that happen?”

“He used some secret door that locked behind him. We thought it might lead out here…but apparently it doesn’t,” Chat answered, rubbing the back of his head as he frowned. “We _could_ search the building, but chances are he’s long-gone by now, since he’d know about secret passages and stuff.”

“You think City Hall is full of secret passages?” Shell questioned, a touch incredulous. Chat gave a shrug.

“How would we know for sure? But if I was working on a government building, it’s what _I’d_ do.”

“More importantly,” Ladybug said, staring at the spot where AVA had miraculously vanished, “…Was that who I thought it was?”

“I don’t know,” Chat replied, turning to frown at the spot as well. “It’s weird…I didn’t think Lila was in Paris anymore…but then again, it’s not like I’d know for sure—”

“Wait—Lila Rossi? You knew Lila Rossi?” Shell asked, startled at Chat’s information on the subject. “You…you know she was Volpina?”

Chat stared at him in return, looking bewildered.

“How’d you know which Lila I was talking about?”

“I asked you first.”

“Yeah, but—”

“It doesn’t matter whether it was actually Lila or not,” Ladybug cut in, folding her arms and frowning at the pair of them, an anxious edge in her voice. “What I want to know is how she pulled the disappearing act.”

“Yeah…” Chat said slowly, tearing his gaze from Shell to frown in speculation, though Shell still stared at him, nonplussed. Who the hell _was_ under that mask of his? “I know they’re all running around as their akumatized selves, but…that shouldn’t have been able to happen. Unless they figured out how to make smoke bombs or something—”

“Not to mention she jumped from that window up there while carrying two people and landed like it was nothing,” Shell unwillingly added, glancing up at the open window into the Mayor’s office once again. When his gaze returned to his teammates, it was to find Ladybug’s face drained of blood.

“You don’t think—was that an _akuma?_ ” She yelped, staring wide-eyed at Shell and Chat Noir, the latter blinking in a startled fashion at this possibility.

“You think the Butterfly re-akumatized Lila?”

“Or _something._ That’s the only explanation there is, isn’t there?”

“Maybe? I don’t know…things have gotten so confusing that it’s hard to keep everything straight, now.”

“Hmm…what do you think, Shell? …Shell? Emerald Shell!”

Emerald Shell blinked, tearing his gaze from AVA’s vanishing point.

“Huh?”

Ladybug frowned at him.

“Are you okay?”

Shell nodded automatically, though his mind was too full for him to respond properly.

Sure, it was possible that the Butterfly, for sick kicks, re-akumatized Lila Rossi, planted her within the ranks of AVA, and was now using her as a spy. It seemed like a perfectly villainous thing to do.

…But there was one other explanation. It was an explanation Shell hadn’t been considering, because he felt it to be impossible. After all, though she still wore the Fox Miraculous, Alya _still_ hadn’t said anything to him, so he thought the Fox kwami was still lying dormant for reasons unknown...

…But what if it was no longer dormant?

What if…it had _never_ been dormant?

What if Alya, catching onto the concept of her powers too quickly, had fooled him into thinking she didn’t think anything special of the Fox Miraculous necklace, and was instead working behind the scenes with AVA, for reasons all her own?

‘ _But those weren’t her eyes,_ ’ his thoughts reasoned as he tried to puzzle out the inconsistency. ‘ _They were too green to be Alya’s eyes._ ’

But then again: the Fox Miraculous held the power of _illusion._

So, if she had wanted him to see a pair of green eyes instead of her actual eyes…then why _wouldn’t_ he see just what she wanted him to see?

Such a realization struck him with such force that Shell nearly stumbled, gritting his teeth together.

If he had been worrying that he had royally fucked up with the Fox Miraculous all this time, only for his sly fiancée to be _sneaking around with it—_

“Shell? What’s—” Ladybug began, breaking him out of his reverie. But before he could think of how to respond—before she could even finish the question, even—there was a sudden call for her.

“Ladybug, Ladybug! What just happened up there? Was that the _mayor_ attacking the leader of AVA?!”

“Is the mayor a hidden member of the Anti-Akuma Taskforce?! Has our own government been corrupted by this destructive conflict between AVA and the AAT?”

“Ladybug, can you explain the most recent akuma attack tonight, which took place during the premiere night of Fashion Week?”

Shell huffed in irritation, frowning down the stairs at the reporters shouting up at them, being held at bay by the police, seemingly on Bridgette’s command. Still, they hounded them, mostly Ladybug, with question after question, demanding answers, as if this night hadn’t dragged on long enough already, as if they didn’t have a _million_ other things to deal with tonight—

It was with no small amount of worry and pride that Shell witnessed Ladybug squaring her exhausted shoulders before she began to march down the stairs, apparently intending to answer the press. Both he and Chat Noir reached out at the same time, gripping said shoulders.

“You don’t have to do this,” Shell told her.

“You’re exhausted. Explanations can wait until we figure this all out,” Chat insisted, looking just as concerned as Shell felt. Ladybug paused, and Shell waited, wondering if she would actually agree that her duty did not need to take over her night, for once—

No dice. Ladybug looked back at them with a small, tired smile.

“I don’t think this is actually something that can wait. Not after everything that’s happened tonight. Besides, I need to go down there to talk to Bridgette anyway. Something has to be done about Mayor Fantoche.” She frowned, momentarily showing her exhaustion. “I don’t know what we _can_ do…but _something_ has to be done. I have to make sure of it. I’m Ladybug, aren’t I? It’s my job to protect the city, no matter the threat.”

Shell sighed. He didn’t like this, but he recognized that Ladybug would do what Ladybug had to do, so he let his hand leave her shoulder. Chat was slower to let her go, and she sent him a reassuring glance before she focused on Shell, biting her lip.

“Shell, I’m sorry. I promised you an explanation—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shell said, quick to dismiss the issue, now that he realized the hypocrisy in his anger. The appearance of ‘Volpina’ forcefully reminded him that it wasn’t only her keeping secrets within this team.

Ladybug gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, her faint smile growing a little before she turned, walking down the steps to answer the summons of the citizens. Shell watched her go, his heart aching. She had always been one of the toughest women he had ever known…but some days, it hurt him to recognize just how tough she had to be.

Emerald Shell glanced over at Chat, finding him staring at Ladybug’s back. His expression…it was complicated, like a combination of guilt, pride, and something else…something deeper…

“Chat,” Shell called him, partly to distract him, but mostly because he had to tell him something. “Listen—I have to go.”

Chat’s head whipped around to stare at Shell, incomprehension in his gaze.

“Go?” He parroted, as if the word was foreign to him. Shell gave a stiff nod.

“Yeah. There’s something I need to take care of, something I need to check, regarding…Volpina.”

Now Chat turned fully towards Shell, green cat’s eyes growing wider with surprise…and a glint of curiosity.

“Do you… _know_ something?”

“I might. Can’t explain now, though,” Shell prefaced as Chat’s mouth opened to undoubtedly ask for more information. “I’m not sure if I’m right, so until I…confirm some things, I can’t say what’s up.”

Chat frowned at this. Shell waited, wondering if the cat man was about to call him out on his hypocrisy—

“…So you have to go see if you’re right?” Chat concluded, and Shell tried to hide his surprise as best as he could, giving a slow nod in response.

“Yeah.” He glanced down at Ladybug, who was currently taking the press’ questions. Poor LB…

Shaking his head, Emerald Shell returned his gaze to Chat Noir.

“I’m trusting you to stay with LB, make sure she’s all right.”

 _This_ managed to shock Chat more than anything else; his mouth actually fell open, and Shell inwardly snorted in amusement.

“…You’re…trusting me?”

“Is there an echo out here?” Shell quipped, smirking as he shrugged his shield off his back. “Yeah, dude, I’m trusting you. ‘Cause we’re teammates, and if we can’t trust each other, than who _can_ we trust? Right?”

Slowly, so very slowly, something like a delighted grin spread across Chat’s face. It surprised Shell; he hadn’t realized just how much his mistrust of the cat man was bothering said cat man.

 “So…do we hug, or—”

“Let’s not get crazy,” Shell deadpanned, raising his fist instead. “Save the hugs for when I save your life or something.”

Chat chuckled, his fist pounding against Shell’s.

“Will do.”

While Shell had to admit the mutual understanding was nice, he didn’t have time to dawdle anymore. If he was going to find out whether or not his suspicions held any weight, he had to go now. So, after a clap to Chat’s shoulder, Shell hopped onto his hoverboard and sped into the air. He only glanced back once, watching as Chat Noir approached Ladybug, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. Assured by the gesture, Emerald Shell escaped into the night.

Nothing would please him more to fall into bed after such a draining night, but like Ladybug, there was a duty as Guardian he had to fulfill before he could even think about sleep.

 

* * *

 

Kim wouldn’t stop pacing. The rest of AVA watched him as he walked up and down their hideout; it seemed physically impossible for him _not_ to move. Still as restless as he was in _collegé…_ the thought would have amused Alya, if things currently weren’t so grim.

“Kim,” Mylené said softly, looking anxious as he passed by her, “the doctors said they would do all they could—”

“She’s in a _coma,_ ” Kim growled, his hands flexing, as if he itched to break something. “There’s nothing they _can_ do. She’s a _vegetable_ now.”

“She could recover—”

“She’s not gonna just wake up tomorrow like nothing happened!” Kim burst out, wheeling around on Mylené and baring his teeth. “It’s not like she’s taking a nap! Do you understand what a coma _is?!_ It _means_ she got hit so hard that her brain could do nothing but shut down! Which means it’d be a _miracle_ for her to recover! And I should know! I went to medical school!”

“Kim, _calm down,_ ” Nathanael insisted, brushing his bright red hair out of his face to temporarily reveal his left eye before it fell back over his face. “Shouting isn’t going to change anything, either.”

“Well what the fuck do _you_ propose we do?!” Kim spat at him; he was apparently prepared to take his ire out on everyone he conceivably could. “Without Alix, AVA is dead! She was the brains behind _everything!_ And I—I—”

Kim hastily turned away from everyone, but Alya could see the tears that burned in his eyes just before he hid his face. Unwillingly, she imagined herself in his position, the person she cared about lying invalid in a hospital bed, cut down just for fighting what she believed in. It wasn’t right. None of this was right.

The flame of righteous fury that had been burning within her ever since Alix had been attacked reached fever pitch, and she stood up. Enough was enough.

“This cannot happen again,” she said, her voice lower than she had meant it to be. Despite that, however, every eye in the room still turned upon her, as if they could sense the strength of her conviction.

After a moment, the blonde girl in the black costume with red polka dots spoke up.

“Well, what are _we_ supposed to do about it?” She demanded with a flip of her blonde hair and a scowl. “Kim probably would have beat the stupid mayor senseless for daring to attack Alix, if only _you_ hadn’t gotten in the way.”

Alya refrained from rolling her eyes. Never in her life would she have expected to be on the same side as _Chloé_ , but then again, she never had expected to become a superheroine either, so she was learning to roll with the punches.

“If we hadn’t gotten Alix to a hospital when we did, it could’ve been much worse,” she pointed out. “And I wasn’t willing to leave any of you behind, just in case any of the other people out there got any bright ideas, or there were AAT thugs hidden somewhere nearby.”

Chloé pursed her lips, but seemed to choose not to respond. Alya would take what she could get from her, and she turned to face the room, addressing the whole of AVA.

“I know you all signed on knowing that anything could happen to you…but still, none of you expected _this,_ right? Suddenly, we don’t have a leader anymore. So what do we do?”

The members of AVA glanced at each other, as if they were waiting for someone to announce a brilliant, _deus ex machina_ scheme.

When no one ventured one, Alya gave it a shot.

“I’ll tell you what we’ll do. Just like Alix said, we’re not gonna lay down and die. We’re gonna get back up, reorganize, and keep fighting. But this time, we’re gonna do it smart.”

“You saying Alix’s plan was stupid?!” Kim hurled at her, his eyes red, and not from the paint on his face. Alya reminded herself to have patience with him, because he was going through a lot right now.

“I’m saying that, while she has amazing charisma and is the best at getting people to mobilize…maybe that energy could’ve been used more productively.”

“I don’t see _you_ coming up with anything better, Rossi,” Kim growled bitterly, and Alya nodded, raising a hand.

“If you’d let me finish, Kim…” She waited, watching him resign himself to silence before she continued. “So, based on what I’ve learned since joining AVA, we define ourselves in three ways: by our pride, our independence, and our ferocity. Our pride means we never apologize for being akumatized, because it was beyond our control, and we can’t possibly be blamed for something beyond our control; our independence, because we don’t need anyone to fight our battles for us; and our ferocity, because we’ll be _damned_ if we let anyone push us around.”

A ripple of chuckling went through the otherwise disheartened group. Alya took the encouragement and ran with it.

“These three things are what makes us Akumatized Victims Anonymous. And I’m proud of that. …But, and stay with me here…I think the make-up and costumes are a little much.”

“…What do you mean?” Nathanael asked, his tone polite enough, but Alya had gotten to know him well enough when he was dating Marinette to know that he was taking her suggestion as a personal attack, since the idea had apparently been his in the first place. She raised her hands to placate him.

“I’m just saying—why do we have to hide, if we’ve done nothing wrong? The AAT don’t bother hiding their faces, and it’s not like our akuma names actually hide who we are, since a quick internet search would tell anybody our real names in a heartbeat. Yes, even those of you who were akumatized seven years ago. Nothing dies on the internet.”

Some of the AVA members exchanged side glances. In those glances, Alya saw that some of them had already realized this problem, but just had no idea how to bring it up before. And Alya had to admit that she didn’t blame them—Alix’s convictions were so strong that it made it hard to argue with her. But now that she was no longer here…

Somewhere in the middle of the room, a hand raised, as if this was school. Alya nodded at the hand.

“Yeah, Bari-Star?”

The red-headed woman stood up, clutching her arm in a self-conscious fashion.

“…But what about what happens after that?” She asked, looking uncomfortable. “If we stop using the face paint and…and start using our real names…won’t we be harassed in our daily lives, too? Just like the AAT?”

Alya frowned.

“…I can’t promise that won’t happen,” she said honestly, and this answer did not seem to please a lot of the AVA members, if the mutterings that began were any indication. Alya raised her voice to talk over them. “But if you’re all still with me—if we’re all still determined to support each other—I think we can get through it. I know anonymity is easier, but…” She shook her head. “We’re not doing anything to convince the rest of the city not to fear us this way.”

“Yeah? Well, why is it _our_ responsibility to make them not fear us?” The guy known as Viner griped, folding his arms with a scowl. “Like Timebreaker always said, that sounds like a personal problem.”

“It is,” Alya readily admitted with a nod. “It shouldn’t be our responsibility to make them realize they have nothing to fear…” She locked gazes with Viner. “But do you feel good about exasperating that fear? Is that how you want people to react to you the rest of your life? With fear?”

“Listen, Vixen, if you have a point, spit it out already,” he challenged her with a glare. “Talking in circles like this is making my head hurt.”

Translation: she was making him think, and it was making him uncomfortable. Alya shrugged and did as he asked.

“Okay, here’s my point: I definitely want to keep protesting this stupid akuma fear. I want us to be as loud and proud as we can…but not as Frankenstein’s rabid creations. Not anymore.”

Deciding to lead by example, Alya reworked her current illusion, making her mask removable. It wasn’t _her_ face, so she had no problem stripping herself of the mask and tossing it to the ground.

“I think it’s time we stop pretending to be the monsters someone else made us,” she said quietly, watching the room. “We’re people, just like everybody else in Paris. Don’t you think it’s time we remind them of that, too?”

More glances were exchanged, and some muttering went through the room. Alya had no idea whether or not they would even take her seriously; she was technically the new kid here. But it seemed like everyone was so lost without Alix that Alya couldn’t just sit there and let them flounder. If she could help, she would.

And if she could convince them that it was time to stop hiding behind face paint and goo…then maybe AVA could make even better progress with the public.

“Rossi.”

Alya turned towards the summons; it always took her half a second to realize that someone meant her when they called Lila’s name. But it was easy to tell who was calling by how they called her; Kim was usually the one to address everyone by last name, save for Alix…

He was watching her warily, something Alya noticed with intrigue. What—did he think she was trying to take over or something, now that Alix was out of commission? That honestly wasn’t her goal—she was just trying to help, to give them direction again. She never saw herself as the leader of AVA, not at all…but if she could help them rediscover their purpose, and they started _treating_ her like the new leader…what would she do about that?

“There’s something you’re still not telling us,” Kim interrupted her musings, and Alya frowned. Oh boy, here they went again… “How do you do all the stuff you do if you’re not an actual akuma?”

Alya rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

“Is it so hard to believe that I would have a Miraculous?”

“Well, considering you lied about it the first time…” Chloé drawled. Alya scowled, hating that she had a point.

“Look, Kim, you’re just gonna have to trust that I want to help, no matter how I got my powers,” she told him point blank, shutting down the conversation with her tone. Brushing Lila’s long hair out of her face, Alya turned, facing the exit of AVA’s hideout. “I’m gonna take off for the night. You guys should get some rest, too—it’s been a long night.”

As she paused in the doorway, Alya looked back, taking in every discouraged and angry expression she saw there. Was it really okay? To leave them in such a state…?

A chime-like sound came from her Miraculous. Her illusion was about to break.

“Don’t do anything crazy, all right?” She said, the request directed mostly at Kim, who scowled and turned away, his fists tightening at his sides. “And remember what I said.”

Leaving them on that parting note, Alya exited the hideout, giving a curt nod to the guards before she leapt onto the nearest rooftop, hopping her way home. As she sailed through the night sky in between jumps, she felt her illusion melt away, and Lila’s guise was stripped off, leaving her as her true superhero persona. That didn’t particularly bother Alya; she was up too high and moving too fast for anybody to get a good look at her to tell the difference.

Even so, she did not slow down until she had reached her apartment, slipping into the window she had left open. Technically, she was still supposed to be at Nino’s, freaking out over how that _thing_ , whatever it was, had ruined Marinette’s fashion debut. But Nino probably wouldn’t return until later that night anyway, and if he asked, Alya could just tell him that she had left to try and check on Marinette, but strangely couldn’t get a hold of her…

Whether it was because he felt she was getting suspicious again or because of his own guilt, Nino tended to clam up whenever Alya mentioned his or Marinette’s mysterious disappearances. Alya felt bad for using it to deflect questions about _her_ mysterious disappearances, but hey, if it worked…

In the darkness of her bedroom, Alya took a deep breath and allowed her Miraculous transformation to dispel. Trixx gave a dramatic sigh, and Alya caught her before she could spiral through the air to the floor.

“I’m _exhausted!_ ” The kwami pouted up at Alya, her plum eyes glowing in the moonlight filtering in from the window. “Keeping your disguise on _top_ of your transformation is hard work, you know!”

“I know, and your hard work is appreciated,” Alya assured her with a smirk, transferring the kwami to her hair just to cheer her up. “What do you say to a well-earned bowl of strawberries?”

“Yaaaay!” Trixx cheered, as Alya knew she would. It so figured that the fox creature was jazzed about strawberries, with how much she loved the color red.

Alya laughed to herself as she began to make her way through the dark bedroom, making a mental note to switch the light on before she left, just so she wouldn’t stumble over things when she returned—

The lamp behind her suddenly clicked on.

Alya whirled with a startled cry, throwing her fists up, ready for a fight—

Emerald Shell sat on her bed, his arms folded as he stared disapprovingly at her.

Alya’s jaw dropped, and she heard Trixx gasp before quickly burrowing in her hair.

It was too late, though. The damage had been done.

_Shit._

“U-uh…whoa, Emerald Shell!” Alya exclaimed; in her shock, her brain glitched, and though she knew it was pointless, she still tried to play dumb. “Wow, what a shock! Um, wh-what are you—”

“Wayzz,” Emerald Shell interrupted, confusing Alya with the strange word until he said, “revert me.”

Emerald Shell’s transformation came undone, and there sat Nino, in the same pajamas Alya had seen him in earlier, with one new addition: the floating green creature that rested itself on his shoulder, surveying her with a calm gaze.

Huh. So _that_ was the kwami of the Turtle Miraculous…

“ _Nino?!_ ” Alya made herself shriek in surprise, inwardly cringing at how much she was overdoing it when she pointed an exaggerated finger at him, her free hand going to her cheek in shock. “ _You’re—_ ”

“Save it,” Nino cut across her, looking most displeased. He scooted forward until he was sitting on the edge of the bed, patting the spot next to him. “Sit down. We need to talk.”

Alya could feel Trixx peek out from under her hair, shifting restlessly.

“Are we in trouble?” She whispered to Alya, who sighed.

“Me more than you,” she muttered, her shoulders slumping as she took in the legitimate anger in Nino’s eyes.

Looked like she had some explaining to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
> So, um, ahem...
> 
> Yeah. Things sure are happening right now.
> 
> (Mwahahahaha~)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	32. Tension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Yeah, I know, it's been a while, but those of you that have been keeping up with me on Tumblr know that I haven't exactly been sitting on my hands lately. :P
> 
> And as a couple of you have already noted, yes, there is now a chapter limit. BTU is drawing to a close.
> 
> I'll save the real mushiness for later, but I will say for now that you guys have made this complicated MESS of a fic about a thousand times more fun than I was ever anticipating. Thank you~
> 
> I hope you enjoy this new chapter! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

“Mayor Fantoche, it’s been a week since the attack on the leader of Akumatized Victims Anonymous. Do you still stand by your statements that you were acting purely in self-defense?”

“Absolutely,” said Mayor Fantoche, pulling a tragic face that was only partially sincere. “I only acted because I feared my life was in danger. I never meant to cause anyone harm.”

“Members of AVA claim that the attack was not provoked, and that you acted because you are a secret member of the Anti-Akuma Taskforce.”

“That’s preposterous!” Blustered the mayor, not catching the frown that passed across the deputy mayor’s face as she stood back from where he was holding his eighth press conference this week, off to the right. Felix, who could usually be found on the left of the mayor during these press conferences, was nowhere in sight on this occasion. “Like I have said time and time again, I only acted in self-defense! I regret that there has been, er, lasting damage due to my actions, but it was _never_ my intention to hospitalize the poor girl! Trust me, I am not at fault here! You can even ask Ladybug, or any other member of Team Miraculous! They were there; they’ll tell you!”

Marinette exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Alya, turn that off. _Please,_ ” she growled, gesturing at the T.V. with her free hand. She saw Alya glance at her with raised eyebrows before doing what she was asked. The T.V. shut off with a click, and Marinette breathed a little easier. Just a little, though.

“Sorry: I didn’t realize the mayor pissed you off so much,” Alya said, rubbing Marinette’s back in comfort. Marinette huffed again and dropped her hands with a shake of her head.

“He didn’t used to…until this whole disaster happened.” She sighed again, glancing to the side. “Besides…it feels tasteless to watch him claim that he did nothing wrong while we’re here…”

Alix lay motionless in the hospital bed, looking so impossibly small. She had seemed larger than life lately, so it was almost a jolt for Marinette to remember that Alix was actually still pretty short. Of course, she would hate Marinette for stating the obvious…

…If she were awake, that is.

Marinette let out a quiet sigh. She found that she herself was longing for a lengthy slumber these days, one that would last a thousand years, if it meant she could avoid the stress of her real life…but looking at Alix’s still form as she lay unconscious and unaware made Marinette feel selfish. She was willing to bet that Alix would gladly change places with her right now, if only she could.

There was a soft grunt from across the bed. Marinette glanced up, but Kim slept on, slumped over at Alix’s bedside. It hurt Marinette’s heart when she noted that his pinky finger was linked with Alix’s, as if he couldn’t stand to not be linked to her, even while he dreamed.

“The nurses say he keeps putting up a fight when they tell him to leave,” Alya muttered softly to Marinette, leaning over in her chair to whisper into her best friend’s ear. “I get why he doesn’t want to: since Mr. Kubdel and Jalil are still in Egypt on their dig, I wouldn’t want to leave Alix by herself, either. But they say he hasn’t been eating much, either…it might not be long before he has to be hospitalized too, if he keeps acting like this.”

Marinette sighed. Poor Kim. Now she felt horrible about snarling at him to get out of her way that night. If only he had been closer when it happened…if only _she_ had seen the attack coming…it was a mess of ‘if only’s bundled in one thorny patch of regret, but basically, everything just sucked right now.

Alya’s phone buzzed; she hastened to muffle the sound, and Marinette saw her cast a quick, anxious glance at Kim. But he didn’t stir, and Marinette and Alya sighed as one.

“Adrien’s on his way,” Alya said unexpectedly. Marinette blinked, turning to raise her eyebrows at her best friend.

“Oh?”

“Mm-hm.” Alya slipped her phone back into the pocket of her jacket, raising a brow at Marinette. “Is your phone on silent? He said he’s been trying to get a hold of you…”

Curious now, Marinette fished out her own phone, and then noted with a cringe that he _had_ been trying to get in touch with her, only for her not to notice, since her phone _was_ on silent mode. Oops.

“Sorry,” Marinette muttered to her phone, resolving to apologize properly once Adrien got here. As she put it away again, she asked, “How about Nino? Is he coming?”

Alya turned to blink at Marinette, the blank expression on her face confusing Marinette.

“What?” She pressed, frowning in response to the furrowing of Alya’s eyebrows.

“Didn’t he tell you? Nino’s not in town right now.”

Marinette stared.

“Not in town…?”

“Bob Ross Records is taking him on a mini tour through France,” Alya said, tilting her head as Marinette’s eyes widened. “He’ll be gone for a couple weeks—I thought he told you?”

“No!” Marinette exclaimed, and then winced as Alya shushed her and Kim grunted in his sleep, shifting his head a little on his folded arm. Thankfully, he slumbered on, drooling onto the crook of his elbow as his mouth hung open. Marinette released the breath she’d been holding and turned back to Alya with a frown. “He didn’t say _anything_ about leaving town.”

Not that Marinette was upset about him leaving town for work—she was glad he seemed to be doing so well—but considering he was part of Team Miraculous, Marinette indeed needed to know these things…

“Really? But he just left yesterday. …Maybe you missed his call with your phone on silent,” Alya suggested quietly, and Marinette tugged her phone out once again, furiously searching through her missed messages for Nino’s name. As she did so, Alya shifted beside her. “I was hoping you’d heard from him, since he’s…not exactly talking to me right now.”

Marinette whirled on her best friend with wide eyes.

“ _What?!_ ”

“Mfh? Wha?!” Kim yelped, wrenching up so quickly that he fell out of his chair. As he groaned and got to his feet, Marinette jumped to hers as well.

“Kim! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you…are you all right?”

Kim groaned, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he righted his chair and resumed his guard position beside Alix.

“M’fine,” he mumbled sleepily, lowering his hand to glance over at Alix. Marinette couldn’t help but notice the way the light in his eyes dimmed when he looked at her unconscious form. The heartbreak was subtle, but it was there, and Marinette positively ached for him.

“Kim,” Alya began, and Marinette heard the Mom Friend tone in her voice, “when was the last time you ate?”

Kim paused, frowning.

“…Uh…”

Alya got up with a huff, circling Alix’s bed to approach Kim.

“If you have to think about it for that long, it’s been too long,” she insisted, grabbing his arm and pulling him to his feet. “Come on. Let’s go scrounge up something from the cafeteria.”

“But—”

“Marinette’ll keep Alix company until we get back,” Alya assured him, and Marinette blinked at the way she was volun-told to stay behind.

“Alya,” she began, but Alya waved a hand at her as she practically dragged Kim to the door.

“We’ll be back later, girl. Adrien should be here soon, too. You can wait for him here.”

“Alya—” Marinette said again, more sternly this time around, because she was _not_ about to let her best friend just act like she didn’t just say that she and her fiancé weren’t speaking right now for reasons unknown—

‘ _Not now,_ ’ Alya’s eyes warned her as she opened the door and ushered Kim through it, him staring at her in bewilderment, as if surprised by her strength.

“We’ll be back later,” she reminded Marinette, her tone implying that she would explain what she meant about her and Nino not talking later. Marinette frowned, but she nodded, trusting the unspoken promise in her friend’s voice as she hauled Kim off to the cafeteria. The door closed behind them, leaving Marinette alone with only Alix and her own thoughts for company. And considering Alix was currently in a coma, there was nothing stopping all of Marinette’s current fears and concerns from rushing back to the forefront of her mind.

Tomorrow was the last day of Fashion Week, and thanks to Shade/Butterfly’s little stunt, Fashion Week had turned into the week from _hell_ , with Marinette’s potential career balancing precariously between an object of intrigue and a pariah brand. Marinette, with Adrien’s help, was scrambling for ideas, to try and figure out how to come back from this, but it was hard with all the bullshit she was currently dealing with regarding Mayor Fantoche, who kept going on TV to say that he had done _nothing_ wrong in his attack on Alix, and that even _Ladybug_ could vouch that it was self-defense. She _really_ did not appreciate him putting words in her mouth, and could only imagine what AVA’s response would be, once they mobilized again… _if_ they mobilized again…

Marinette huffed as she sat back down, pinching the bridge of her nose again. If the world could just stop for one second, then maybe, just maybe, she could have the peace and quiet required to think long enough for a solution to all her problems. Figuring out a use for a Lucky Charm in the heat of the moment was child’s play for her at this point, but when it came to dealing with things happening in her civilian life—

The door swung open. Marinette glanced up, expecting Adrien…but the blonde hair protruding from that extravagant bouquet was too light to be his…

Marinette groaned as the bouquet lowered, and cool blue eyes met hers.

“Not you again,” she grumbled, feeling a vein beginning to pulse in her temple at the sight of Felix. She had been seeing _way_ too much of him lately, as he was usually on television along with Bridgette whenever Mayor Fantoche appeared to make an impassioned speech about his innocence _._ She was getting pretty sick of all three of them, as a matter of fact. Bridgette never looked happy about what the mayor was saying, but she still stood by his side, didn’t she? And Felix, for that matter…

Felix quirked an eyebrow at her, as was his custom whenever they ran into each other.

“Hello to you, too,” he said dryly, setting the bouquet down on a surface that wasn’t already covered with flowers in Alix’s room. Marinette squinted at the bouquet. Daisies, peonies, pansies…and were those hydrangeas? What an odd combination…she couldn’t remember enough about the language of flowers to figure out what they were supposed to mean.

What she _did_ know, however, was that Felix had no business being here.

“What’re those? A sign of goodwill from the mayor?” She asked cuttingly as Felix turned around to face her. “Is this a publicity move? Where are the cameras?”

Felix raised an eyebrow again, as if he found her ridiculous. God, he was annoying.

“This has nothing to do with the mayor,” he answered coolly. “I’m here on my own behalf.”

Marinette stared at him.

Here on his own…what? Why would he come on his own? It wasn’t like he _knew_ Alix…

“…Isn’t that a conflict of interest?” She asked, folding her arms. Felix approached the foot of Alix’s bed, and Marinette bristled, keeping herself in her seat with effort. It was hard not to step in between him and Alix, hard to remember that there was no reason that he would cause her further harm…no reason that Marinette could figure out, anyway…

“Have you thought about what I said?” He asked her, apropos of nothing. Marinette stared at him some more, uncomprehending.

“About what?” It wasn’t like she bothered to catalogue every single word he said, after all. What the hell was he talking about?

A muscle in Felix’s jaw twitched, and Marinette wondered if she was annoying him. _Ha._

“About…that woman,” he said, his tone clipped.

“What wo—” Before she finished asking, Marinette remembered. And then she snorted. “Oh. _That._ Yeah, I pretty much forgot about that right after I left the grocery store that day.”

“That isn’t wise,” Felix warned. Now Marinette got up, because she was annoyed at the way he towered over her, looking like an indulgent parent watching a child make the same mistake over and over again, expecting different results every time. What did he know, anyway?

“I don’t know what your problem with Desiree is,” she began, pointing an accusing finger up at him, “but you’re not going to turn me against her. I’ve known her way longer than you, so I know what she’s actually like. You’re wasting your breath, Felix.”

Felix let out said breath in a short puff, pinching the bridge of his nose. Marinette blinked at this. It wasn’t like she was the only one to make that gesture or anything, sure, but the fact that she shared a habit like that with _Felix_ was undesirable, to say the least.

“Marinette,” he began after a tense second, lowering his hand and sounding as if he was working to keep himself calm. “You are making things difficult for me.”

Marinette’s mouth came open with a pop. Was he _serious_?

“ _I’m_ making things difficult for _you_?!” She parroted him, unable to believe the words she was hearing. Had _she_ assisted in his torture during his last days at _Tres Bien_ boutique? Had _she_ followed him around for weeks after quitting, showing up at random and freaking her out? What the _hell_ was he on about?

Felix, it appeared, didn’t have the patience for her incredulity.

“Has it ever occurred to you, beyond your stubborn and unwarranted suspicion of me,” he continued, speaking over the loud snort she let loose (‘Unwarranted suspicion’? He could _not_ be serious), “that I might be trying to help you?”

Okay, he _had_ to be jerking her chain.

“Help me with what?” She asked him, frowning up into his face, which had suddenly turned neutral, as if he had said too much. She squinted at him. “And _for_ what? What could possibly be your reason for wanting to help me with anything?”

Felix stared at her, hard, as if he was studying her…no, not studying…it was more like…he was trying to will her with his eyes to realize on her own, the questions she sought from him…as if she was missing a very vital piece of information when it came to him—

The door opened again.

Marinette glanced over and withheld her groan with some difficulty. Her boyfriend had terrible timing.

Adrien stood in the doorway, blinking rapidly. She could see him trying to process the scene in front of him, to understand what he was seeing, for there _was_ no ready explanation for why Marinette and Felix were together, arguing in Alix’s hospital room, was there?

His gaze focusing on his cousin, Adrien frowned.

“…Felix,” he greeted carefully, stepping into the room, clutching a much smaller bouquet than the one Felix had brought, though this bouquet contained daisies as well. “What are you doing here?”

“Leaving,” he replied shortly, turning away from Marinette, a frown of disappointment on his pale face. “Pardon me.”

He walked swiftly from the room, brushing by Adrien as he went without so much as a goodbye. Marinette snarled under her breath. How _rude._

“Can you believe—” she began as she approached Adrien, feeling only a smidge of guilt for venting about Felix to his own flesh and blood…but it wasn’t like he and Adrien were close anyway. Before she could finish, however, Adrien was suddenly thrusting his bouquet at her.

“Here,” he said, already turning from her, heading back out into the hall. “Can you hang on a second? There’s, uh, something I need to take care of.”

“I—”

But he was already leaving, his long legs hauling him down the hall nearly faster than Marinette’s eyes could follow, to chase down his contrary cousin. A passing nurse reprimanded him for his speed, and he apologized hurriedly before rounding a corner and disappearing from sight.

Which left Marinette alone. Again.

Carefully setting down Adrien’s contribution to Alix’s well-wishes, Marinette frowned. What did Adrien suddenly have to say to Felix, after all this time? Was he angry that he had found his cousin antagonizing Marinette, after all the times she’d complained about him?

He…knew better than to start a fight in the middle of the hospital…didn’t he?

Marinette bit her lip. Adrien was perfectly reasonable, it was true, but when it came to _Chat Noir,_ she knew that he became _very_ protective if he felt that she was being threatened.

And him walking in in the middle of their argument, which wasn’t as heated as it _could_ have been, still couldn’t have looked good.

She sighed. She was going to have to track them down, wasn’t she? It wasn’t like she’d be missed—Alya was probably in the middle of force-feeding Kim whatever food she could get her hands on, and Alix…

Alix…

Marinette shook her head sharply and left the room. There was nothing she could do for Alix now. All she could do was hope and pray that she would recover someday, if not someday soon.

Quickly following Adrien’s path, Marinette slowed her steps when she heard low voices that sounded familiar, eventually stopping just before a corner, where she could hear them clear as day:

“…been following her. What are you doing?”

“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

“She’s my _girlfriend,_ Felix. I _am_ concerned.”

There was a pause, in which Marinette realized that, technically, she was eavesdropping.

Oh no…what was she doing? It didn’t seem like a fight was about to break out, but that could easily change with a cutting word or two…but what if a fight _didn’t_ occur? How could she justify being plastered to the wall like this, listening in on a conversation that was clearly not meant for her ears?

She doubted Adrien would be happy if he found her waiting here, after all was said and done…

‘ _I should leave,_ ’ she decided, sighing silently and sliding a foot to the right, intending to make as stealthy an escape as she could manage—

“…I mean her no harm, Adrien,” said Felix’s quiet voice, and Marinette paused. “Whatever she believes—whatever you may think—I mean it when I say I am only trying to help.”

Marinette frowned. There was that word again: ‘help’. Did he even know the proper meaning of the word?

Adrien must have shared her sentiments, for he replied, in a voice more wounded than Marinette was expecting,

“I know what you think ‘helping’ is, Felix. And trust me when I say that she’s probably better off without it.”

There was a very long pause. Marinette stayed were she was, intrigued.

There was something here…a history with scars that weren’t healing. Erika had confided in Marinette that Adrien and Felix had never gotten along…but did she know why?

And more importantly, if Marinette stayed to listen, would she find out?

She wished she could edge around the corner without being seen, to read the faces of the cousins as they faced off against each other. If only she had Camille’s powers of camouflage…

“So you have not forgiven me.” The voice was quiet, matter of fact, as if it was not a surprise that Adrien still bore a grudge. “It’s fine. I don’t ask for it…though I will point out that you took my advice…a little too literally.”

“What, so it’s my fault? I’m the dumb kid that turned into an asshole because I misunderstood you?” Adrien’s voice was icier than Marinette had heard it in months. “You _told me_ that if I didn’t want to be seen as a demon, that I should show everyone what _real_ demons looked like! How else was I supposed to take that?!”

“Adrien, I never meant for you to change,” Felix sighed, and the back of Marinette’s neck tingled as she stared at the pale tiles of the hospital floor, a strange inkling that she was hearing far more than she expected to... “What I meant was that you should just keep being you—this upbeat young man, optimistic nearly to the point of foolishness. Eventually, my parents would have realized that they were wrong about you, that you were nothing like Gabriel. I never said that you should have to prove yourself.”

“Well you should’ve made yourself clearer!” Adrien snapped, though there was a fragile note in his tone that hurt Marinette to hear. “Because of you...because of Father…because of me…I was so wrong, for so long. There’s so much I’m never, _ever_ going to be able to forgive myself for, so why should _you_ get off so easy?”

… _Wait a goddamn minute._

If Marinette was understanding correctly, even with only the context clues…

The reason Adrien had reappeared so warped…the reason Chat Noir had believed that _killing_ akuma victims was acceptable—was because of some bad advice he had been given at the point in his life where he had lost his supervillain father, and had been lost, confused, and vulnerable?

And that bad advice came from—so that meant—

This whole mess was _Felix’s_ fault?!

Marinette saw red, and for a moment she had to master herself, to keep herself from flying around the corner and flinging herself in a blind rage at that blonde, smug son of a bitch who had stolen the light from Adrien’s eyes and had tried to reform him into a creature like _him—_ cold, unsympathetic, unfeeling.

Where did _he_ get off, acting so high and mighty, like he knew what was best, when _he_ had been the cause of Marinette’s misery only a few months ago, in _way_ more ways than one?!

Whatever game he was trying to play here by trying to convince her and Adrien that he was ‘only trying to help’, Marinette wasn’t having it. Learning that _he_ had been the catalyst for Chat Noir’s madness all along, even if only accidentally, pushed him forever from the harbor of Marinette’s patience. No matter what he said, no matter what he did, she would never forgive him. _Never._

“I don’t ask to be forgiven,” Felix said again, and Marinette jolted; for one heart-stopping moment, she thought he had somehow heard her mental tirade against him. But she realized he was only talking to Adrien as he continued, “I know you have had…a difficult time, as of late.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Adrien muttered bitterly, and Marinette’s heart went out to him.

“…Perhaps not,” Felix replied after a beat. “But…for whatever it’s worth, Adrien…I am sorry. I never meant to cause you such pain…and I greatly regret that you suffered at my hands.”

“You’re so formal,” Adrien grumbled, echoing Marinette’s thoughts once again. “It’s like you’re talking to a co-worker rather than your own cousin.”

There was a pause.

“…I am…not good…with feelings,” Felix said stiffly after a moment. Marinette almost snorted; that was the understatement of the century. “And…we have never been particularly close, Adrien.”

“No thanks to you.”

“Perhaps.” There was another pause, longer this time. “…But, despite how I have acted…if I ever have considered anyone a brother…it would be you.”

Adrien apparently had nothing to say to that. Another long pause ensued.

“…I would ask you to extend my apologies to Marinette for disturbing her,” Felix said, breaking the silence and pausing Marinette’s second attempt at leaving with the sound of her name. “But I doubt she would believe me.”

“Can you blame her?”

“…No. I suppose not.”

And that was that—with apparently nothing more to say, there was the sound of sharp footsteps clacking away against the tile of the floor, signaling Felix’s departure. Marinette took this opportunity to take her leave as well, and was back in Alix’s hospital room when Adrien returned, looking apologetic.

“Sorry. I wanted to see what Felix was up to,” he explained as he sat down next to Marinette, planting a kiss on her cheek in greeting. “But he wasn’t exactly forthcoming…”

“Typical,” Marinette grumbled, keeping her face as neutral as she could while her rage bubbled beneath the surface. The next time she ran into Felix (which would be sometime soon, no doubt), he was going to get either an earful, a beat down, or both at the same time.

“Yeah…” Silence filled the room, save for the tiny noises of the hospital machines monitoring Alix’s status. After a moment or two, Adrien spoke. “Where’s Alya?”

“She’s probably making Kim eat his weight in hospital food,” Marinette replied with a slight shrug and a faint smile that disappeared after a moment. “He’s…been having a rough time.”

Adrien remained silent at that. His expression was hard to read as he stared at Alix, his eyes tight. Marinette supposed she understood—with all the grief AVA had given them, Chat Noir especially, it still must be hard to see the leader cut down in her prime like this, lying unresponsive in a hospital bed rather than rallying her troops.

Funny, Marinette never thought she would be wishing for AVA to still be active. But when the alternative was this…

“Oh,” said Adrien after a moment, blinking as if he had just remembered something. “I talked to some of the coordinators for Fashion Week.”

A light, dim but sparking, lit itself in Marinette, and she turned towards her boyfriend eagerly, everything else shoved aside for the moment.

“Yeah?”

Adrien smiled.

“Well, it took some networking, but…I think I can convince them to give you some more runway time tomorrow.”

Marinette felt her mouth come open with a pop.

“Seriously?! But when I asked, they told me it would be impossible!”

“Yeah, well,” Adrien shrugged with a little smile. “Sometimes it helps to know a guy who happens to run a fashion empire.”

Marinette’s joy over this tiny victory was immediately overcome by trepidation. Ah, right…as pleased as she was by this development, there was something she had been thinking about lately, regarding Adrien and his career. It was one of the things keeping her up at night, in fact…and now seemed as good a time as any to bring it up…

“…About that,” she began carefully, her teeth moving to worry her bottom lip. “Adrien…are you sure you want Agreste Fashion to carry my line?”

Adrien stared at her, a corner of his mouth pulling down as he frowned.

“What do you mean?” He asked, uncomprehending. Marinette drew in a deep breath. Throughout this whole mess of a week, she had seen how stressed Adrien had become on her behalf. And she felt terrible about it, especially since she knew Adrien wasn’t passionate about fashion like she was. Sure, he wanted to see her succeed, but at what cost?

“Let me ask you something: do you _like_ being CEO of a fashion company? Really?”

Adrien stared at her, in much the same way he had stared at her when she had asked why he continued to model, despite hating it. God…that Christmas party seemed like eons ago now…

“…Well,” Adrien began, glancing away as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t exactly hate it…but…I think I could live without it, too…”

Marinette nodded. That’s what she thought.

“But you won’t quit,” she predicted, frowning up at him, “not as long as you’re helping me with my career, right?”

“…Oh,” Adrien muttered as comprehension seemed to dawn on him. “That’s what you’re worried about? That I’ll feel obligated to keep running Agreste Fashion as long as it helps you?”

“Well am I wrong?” Marinette pressed, searching Adrien’s face. He cleared his throat, glancing away from her as he massaged the back of his neck again.

“…Well…no,” he admitted, raising his hands when Marinette sighed. “But that doesn’t mean you should feel bad about it! I love that I can help you with your career!”

“But I don’t love the thought of chaining you to something _you_ don’t love,” Marinette insisted, folding her arms. “It’s not fair. Just because I’m passionate about fashion doesn’t mean it’s okay for you to give up on _your_ passions.”

Adrien snorted.

“Mari, I don’t really have anything that I’m passionate about,” he said, and then cringed at the look on Marinette’s face. “Okay, that came out wrong—what I mean is, I may not love fashion like you do, but I _am_ good at it, and it fills my time. What else would I do all day?”

“Something you actually like?” Marinette suggested, her tone just a touch dry. “Like playing the piano?” She knew she had hit her mark when Adrien’s expression faltered, and he became thoughtful. She turned to fully face him, hands sliding over his to give them a squeeze. “That’s what you _really_ love, Adrien. And while I do appreciate everything you’ve done for me, really…I would feel awful making you stay in a line of work that will only make you unhappy down the road. You deserve to do what you love.”

A blush filled Adrien’s face; Marinette supposed she embarrassed him with how strongly she felt about this. However, his golden brow furrowed in concern.

“But what about you?”

Marinette made herself shrug. It was true, the thought of her uncertain future scared her…but it wasn’t right to pin all her success on her boyfriend either, was it?

“I’ll figure something out,” she said, determined on this point, at least. “If it means I have to keep working at my parents’ bakery for a few more years to save up, I’ll do it…but I think it’d be nice to have my own boutique.”

“…A boutique…” Adrien mused, tilting his head to the side as he considered it. Slowly, a smile spread across his face. “I guess the desire to own small businesses runs in the family, doesn’t it?”

Marinette laughed.

“I guess so,” she agreed, before sobering. “Seriously, though: I do appreciate everything you’ve done to help me, Adrien. Thank you so much. …But this week has been a disaster, and while I’m willing to suffer through it, I don’t think it’s okay to drag you down with me.”

“…So, what are you saying?”

Marinette took a deep breath…and managed a smile.

“I’m saying…after Fashion Week is finally done, if you want to keep my superhero line for Agreste Fashion, then it’s yours. It’s the least I can do, after all your help.” Her expression firmed as determination flooded her. “But now I’m going to start my own brand. And the only support I’ll need from you is the emotional kind.”

Adrien stared at her. Marinette kept his gaze, her shoulders straight, wanting him to realize just how serious she was about this.

It didn’t take him long to figure it out.

“…You’ve given this a lot of thought,” he noted quietly, and Marinette smiled weakly.

“It’s what I do instead of sleeping these days,” she admitted. Adrien frowned at this, and he raised a hand, his thumb brushing her cheek, as if he meant to rub the dark circles under her eyes away with his touch alone.

“And you’re absolutely sure about this?” He wanted to check. “There’s nothing I can say or do to convince you otherwise?”

“Nope.”

Adrien frowned.

“I don’t mind helping you out, Mari—”

“I know you don’t,” Marinette interrupted, resting a hand over his wrist, his palm still pressed against her cheek. “But I do mind. This is something I love, so I’m willing to put in the work. But I’m _not_ willing to let you get wrapped up in a world you’ve been stuck in for most of your life for the sake of others.” Marinette frowned. “This is something I have do alone.”

Adrien’s expression was unreadable. For a moment, Marinette worried that she had offended him, rejecting his help after they had fought so hard to make her dream become a reality. She opened her mouth to apologize, but almost as if he was anticipating it, Adrien pressed his thumb to her lips, halting any words she might have uttered. The action was unnecessary, though; his expression had softened to the point where it rendered Marinette speechless. It embarrassed her to look at him, at the tender glow in his eyes, but she couldn’t look away, even without his other hand moving to her face as well as he cupped her cheeks.

“…I may not love fashion the way you do, Mari,” he admitted softly, and Marinette felt her heart thud in her chest as his gaze grew intense. “…But…I love y—”

The door swung open, and both Marinette and Adrien jumped in surprise. Marinette turned her wide eyes to the doorway, where Kim and Alya stood, Kim staring at them with raised eyebrows, Alya with smug amusement.

“Whoa,” said Kim, blinking at the pair of them as he stepped into the room. “I know it’s been a while since we’ve caught up, but since when are you two a thing?”

“Oh, this has been going on since December,” Alya drawled, grinning as Marinette felt herself flush scarlet. “It took them a while to actually start dating, though, dense as they are.”

Kim sat down beside Alix’s still form once again, his smirk only half-hearted.

“Well, congrats, Marinette. You’ve only been in love with the guy for _ever._ ”

Normally Marinette would quip right back at him, but the ‘L’ word had her feeling a bit more fragile than usual, and she could do nothing but cover her face with her hands to hide while she endured Kim and Alya’s snickering.

She couldn’t focus on them, however—the realization that Adrien had been about to tell her he loved her for the first time was too strong. It pounded through her, roaring through her blood, sending more heat to her face and her ears as she felt herself blush from head to toe.

True, she knew she loved Adrien, and she hoped he felt the same way, but when it came to finding a right time to express such sentiments to each other…well, those moments had been few and far between as of late.

There was a sudden warmth on her back; Adrien’s hand was there, rubbing soothing circles into her back. Her shoulders relaxed automatically, and she peeked over at him, finding him smiling at her, though he was just as red in the face as she undoubtedly was.

Oh…if only Kim and Alya had stayed in the cafeteria just a little longer…

 

* * *

 

“So? Are you going to tell me now?”

Alya’s shoulders slumped, but she kept walking a little ahead of Marinette, swallowing her bite of to-go sherbet with some difficulty.

“Tell you what?” She stalled as she and Marinette meandered their way through Plaza Pompidou, the street performers holding little to no interest for Alya whatsoever. There was a short huff behind her, and a hand caught her elbow. Alya had no choice but to stop and turn towards her friend, who was regarding her with some annoyance and a whole lot of concern.

“Don’t play dumb. You said earlier that you and Nino aren’t talking, and I wanna know why.” Marinette let go of Alya’s arm, resting her free hand on her hip as she held her milkshake in the other, her lips pursed. “What happened?”

Oh boy…how the hell was Alya supposed to explain?

The fight that had resulted in Nino discovering that Alya had been sneaking around with her Miraculous all this time had been one of the most explosive fights they had ever had. She didn’t think she had ever seen Nino so mad in general, least of all at her, but of course she couldn’t stop herself from arguing with him, the need to defend herself so far ingrained into her being that it was now a reflex reaction…

 

* * *

 

_~A Week Ago~_

“You _lied_ to me! You’ve been lying to me this whole time!”

Ah—his patience had finally worn away. After he had made her detail exactly when she had discovered the powers of her Miraculous and how long she had been working behind the scenes with AVA, Nino had gotten up to pace around the room, leaving Alya to watch as the anger in his face had slowly built up, his jaw working until he had finally hurled the accusation that he’d been chewing on at her…

Despite herself, Alya snorted.

“That’s funny, coming from you,” she said dryly as she got to her feet, though guilt struck her as Nino clenched his jaw. She knew that was a cheap shot, but still… “Besides, it was _you_ who didn’t say anything to _me_ when you gave me the necklace—”

“That’s because you acted like nothing was wrong!” Nino shot back, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. “I’ve been driving myself crazy this whole time, waiting for you to tell me something was up, but you’ve just been off doing your own thing, hanging out with AVA—what the _hell_ were you thinking, Alya?!”

“I was _trying_ to help!” Alya burst out, crossing her arms tightly as she glared up at her fiancé, reacting to his anger with her own righteous fury. God, he was acting like she had betrayed him by keeping her powers to herself, which was rich, given all the hell he had put _her_ through not two months ago… “And what were _you_ thinking when you gave me the Fox Miraculous and didn’t say a damn thing to me? Were you trying to be funny or something?”

Nino opened his mouth, and then closed it again, just glaring at her. Even through the heat, however, guilt was evident in his eyes; his lack of retort confirmed her earlier suspicion that he probably didn’t mean for her to have the Fox Miraculous in the first place. She was still working out how she felt about that.

Alya felt Trixx emerge from her hair again, parting it like a curtain. She couldn’t see the kwami from this angle, so instead she watched Nino’s face as he took in the sight of the fox-like kwami, the glare fading in favor of curiosity.

“Um…can I interrupt?” Trixx requested, abruptly polite, and she flew out from the shelter of Alya’s red locks to hover in front of Nino, sounding concerned. “I don’t know what you were planning to do with me, Guardian tod, but I really, really, _really_ don’t want another Chosen. I like Alya—she’s a lot of fun, and it’s rare for me to get a kit who thinks exactly the way I do. So…please don’t take me from her?”

Alya’s eyes shot to Nino’s face, stunned.

“ _Are_ you going to take the Fox Miraculous away from me?” She demanded to know, because _holy shit,_ she hadn’t even thought that was a _possibility!_ He couldn’t take it from her _now_ , could he? Did Nino—a guardian of the Miraculous or something, according to Trixx—have that kind of power? And was Alya about to find the answer to that question in the worst way possible?

Nino said nothing, frowning as he glanced in between Trixx and Alya and back again, evidently thinking. Reacting to his silence, Alya reached out and cupped Trixx in between her palms, holding her close as she stared at him defiantly. Nino was her fiancé, yes, and she loved him, but if he wanted the Fox Miraculous back, he was going to have to fight her fang and claw for it, because there was _no fucking way_ she would be giving it up voluntarily. Not after she knew what she could do, what she was capable of. Besides, she had grown fond of Trixx, too, bonding in their mutual mischief. If Nino chose to take that away from her _now_ —

“…I probably _should_ take it, on principle…” Nino grumbled after a moment, still frowning at her. Alya’s hands tightened around Trixx, who clung to her thumb. Seeing this, Nino let out a long sigh, scratching the back of his head. “…But I won’t.”

“Oh, thank you!” Trixx rejoiced immediately; to celebrate, she flew from the shelter of Alya’s hands to snuggle against the top of her head, where she promptly buried herself in Alya’s hair. Again.

Alya huffed and smirked. This ridiculous creature…

“But,” Nino began, the amusement fading from his face at Trixx’s display of affection, “there’ll have to be some ground rules now. Number one being that you have to stop fraternizing with the enemy.”

Alya raised her eyebrows.

“I have not had any affiliation with the Butterfly whatsoever,” she stated in a practiced politician’s voice. Nino’s scowl returned.

“You _know_ what I mean,” he growled at her, folding his arms over his chest as he glared. “You gotta stop hanging out with AVA. I don’t care if it’s in disguise or not—you just can’t do it.”

“Why?” Alya questioned, matching Nino’s glare now. “Who am I hurting by trying to steer them in the right direction?”

“They _burned an effigy_ of a member of Team Miraculous tonight!” Nino reminded her none too gently. “You really want to hang out with people who think _that’s_ okay?!”

Alya frowned. He had a point—she hadn’t liked that idea at all, doubly so since she knew who was _really_ under that black cat mask. But it wasn’t like her veto had counted for much; Alix had loved the idea too much to hear a word against it.

Alix…

Alya shook her head, plucking at the chain of her Miraculous in a distracted fashion.

“AVA needs direction now more than ever, Nino. They just watched their leader get attacked by the _goddamn mayor._ If _that_ isn’t anti-akuma—”

“Your purpose isn’t to help AVA,” Nino interrupted, “you’re _supposed_ to be helping Team Miraculous!”

“Team Miraculous?” Alya questioned with a snort, completely side-tracked. “ _That’s_ what you all call yourselves?”

Despite the situation, Nino grew embarrassed, huffing as he shook his head.

“Wasn’t my idea,” he grumbled with mild indignation. Alya’s obvious amusement seemed to annoy him; his scowl returned all too quickly. “But that’s not what’s important. Point is, you’re meant to be helping the superheroes, not the vigilantes.”

“I thought the purpose of a superhero was to protect _all_ of the citizens in their designated city,” Alya challenged him with a quirk of her brow. “Did that definition change while I wasn’t looking?”

This question seemed to make Nino uncomfortable. He dropped his gaze to the floor, and Alya watched his hand close over the Turtle Miraculous hooked around his wrist. Wayzz, the turtle kwami who had been silently observing them fight this whole time from the comfort of Nino’s shoulder, gave his Chosen a speculative glance, as if wondering how he would talk his way around Alya’s logic. Alya wondered the same, actually, and so instead of pressing her point, this time she chose to sit back and observe, watching as different emotions shifted the expressions on Nino’s face as he thought.

When he finally returned Alya’s gaze again, his expression was grim.

“…I know how you feel,” he said mutely. And he _did_ know—Alya could see the shadows in his eyes that sometimes haunted him late at night, the horror shaking him from sleep; the darkness she, too, shared, though they merely clung to each other after the nightmares without giving those fears a proper voice— “But what they’re doing isn’t _right,_ Alya.”

“Which is why I think they could use a positive influence,” Alya pressed, refusing to be deterred from her chosen course of action, no matter what Nino might have to say about it. Why was he fighting her on this, anyway? Didn’t he understand how important it was that people like AVA—people like her and Nino—were taken seriously? With half the city howling for their blood, wasn’t it important that they had at least _one_ superhero on their side?

Nino clearly disagreed, if the look on his face was any indication.

“Alya, the purpose of the Fox Miraculous—”

“Oh stop it,” she cut in with a huff, losing her already thin strand of patience. “We both know that you didn’t mean to give the Fox Miraculous to me in the first place, Nino. Yes, I know it was an accident,” she said dryly when Nino looked as if he had been struck. “You were acting way too weird and jumpy that day for me to believe you actually wanted me to join your superhero crew.” She briefly frowned at this, wondering once again in her most jealous of hearts why she _hadn’t_ been his first choice…ah, but that was a whole other can of worms, wasn’t it? She would let it go for now. “So since it was an accident, what do you care what I do with it?”

Oh, she had done it now: Nino’s irritation evolved as the tops of his ears turned red, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he seemed to hold himself back from saying exactly what was on his mind—

And then the flimsy dam for his words broke.

“What do _I_ care?!” He yelled so loudly and suddenly that Alya actually took a step back in alarm. “Alya, _you can’t just do what you want!!_ Being Chosen doesn’t give you a free pass to fuck around and do _whatever_! And if you think it does, then maybe I _should_ take it back, because you _clearly_ can’t handle the responsibility!”

Alya’s eyes widened.

No he _fucking didn’t._

“Says the guy who gave me this power _by accident!_ ” She shot back hotly. “You wanna talk about responsibility? How about making sure you actually know what you’re _doing_ when you give out magic jewelry! Seriously, if you’re supposed to be the guardian of these things or whatever, if I were in charge, I’d fire you for negligence!”

Nino’s expression froze, and Alya realized she had touched a nerve.

No, not touched—she had taken a metaphorical _sledgehammer_ to that nerve.

With anybody else, namely some asshole bothering her, this would’ve made her smirk with vindictive pleasure.

But since it was Nino—the love of her life—the way his expression crumpled only hurt her. Her anger immediately faded, and she opened her mouth to apologize—

Nino abruptly turned on his heel, his shoulders hunched as he headed for the bedroom door. Oh god…she had made him so mad that he wasn’t even going to argue with her anymore. _Fuck._

“Nino, wait,” Alya pleaded, going after him, but he refused to look back, refused to answer her. His steps didn’t slow, and before Alya could beg him to stay, he was out her front door, slamming it so hard that the frame rattled. Alya cringed at the noise.

Oh god. She had fucked up. She had fucked up so badly…

“Aren’t you gonna go after him?” Trixx didn’t emerge from Alya’s hair, but she could hear the concern in her kwami’s voice. It was weird, how serious she was acting…but then again, it wasn’t as if the situation didn’t call for concern…

“…” Alya sighed. What she should do and what she wanted to do didn’t often keep each other’s company. This was one of those times—while she _wanted_ to go after him and apologize for the thoughtless words that clearly affected him more than she thought they would…

“I can’t,” she replied heavily, displacing her glasses as she rubbed at her tired eyes. “If he’s this mad, nothing I say right now will get through to him. If I want him to listen to me, I need to give him space until he’s ready to talk.”

Trixx flipped herself out of Alya’s hair like a trapeze artist, floating upside down as she regarded Alya with a tiny pout.

“How d’ya know that?” She asked, her fox ear’s twitching with curiosity. “You sound so confident…”

Alya smiled, the gesture weak because her heart wasn’t really in it.

“I’ve been with Nino for eight years. I know how he thinks. That’s just a natural part of a relationship when you’ve been with someone for a while…”

Alya glanced down, her discomfort with the situation growing as she stared at the engagement ring circling her ring finger.

…Hmm. Maybe the Fox Miraculous wouldn’t be the only piece of jewelry Nino would demand she return…

Alya balled her hand into a fist and lowered it, swallowing around the lump in her throat.

“…Unfortunately, _because_ I know him so well, I also know how to hurt him,” she mumbled, ashamed.

This was so messed up—it wasn’t like she was _trying_ to actively oppose Nino and Team Miraculous! She just felt that it was important for AVA to have a positive force, a voice of reason when they got carried away in their passion. True, Alya’s opinion had a hit or miss ratio, since Alix had preferred any radical decision to her level-headed alternative, but now with her gone, and with the lost expressions of AVA’s members so fresh in Alya’s mind…

Her opinion wouldn’t be swayed: someone had to help AVA.

But now troubling questions followed this conviction—was it truly right for Alya to be the one to help, under all these false pretenses of hers? Would her time and effort be better suited on the side of Team Miraculous?

And…and if she continued the way she was going…if she refused to surrender her Miraculous and continued to aid and abet AVA…could her relationship with Nino survive such a choice?

And if it couldn’t…what would she do…?

 

* * *

 

_~Present Day~_

…Yeah, that was a whole complicated mess of emotions and drama that Alya didn’t much feel like reliving, let alone burdening Marinette with such knowledge. Besides, it seemed like, for whatever reason, Nino hadn’t told Marinette about Alya yet…probably because he was worried she would react poorly.

Alya had already upset him to the point where he was refusing to speak to her; she wasn’t about to tattle on him to his teammate as well. But how to give an answer that would satisfy Marinette’s curiosity without her knowing too much…

“…I really don’t wanna get into it,” she warned Marinette, frowning. “The short of it is that we disagreed over something, then fought about it, and I said something stupid and hurtful and probably unfair, so now, he’s not talking to me.”

Marinette’s face grew anxious, and her eyes roamed over Alya, as if she was looking for something. A quick glance down told Alya that her Miraculous was hidden under her shirt as always, and so she allowed herself to relax.

“You guys aren’t gonna…break up, are you…?” Marinette asked in a voice so small that Alya wondered if she had spoken so softly on purpose, half-hoping that Alya wouldn’t hear the question so that there was no possibility of her giving a negative answer.

Alya smiled. Her best friend was so cute.

“I don’t _think_ so,” she replied after a moment, watching Marinette fidget on the spot due to the slight inflection she placed on the word ‘think’. “It was one of our worst fights, yeah…but I still love him and want to be with him…ball’s pretty much in his court right now, though.”

“Oh my god, Alya,” Marinette whispered through her fingers as she eyed Alya in horror. “What did you say to make him so mad?”

Alya grimaced. The gesture seemed to be enough for Marinette to realize that she didn’t want to repeat herself. Her eyebrows pinched together, she tried for a different tactic.

“Well, have _you_ tried talking to him at all?”

Alya snorted at this.

“Unanswered texts, calls that go directly to voice mail…” Alya sighed and shrugged. “At this point, I’d break into his apartment and _make_ him talk to me, but since he’s out of town…”

Marinette bit her lip, and Alya drew comfort from the squeeze her best friend delivered to her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Alya.”

Though Alya smiled in appreciation, she knew this sympathy was undeserved. It was her fault that Nino was upset in the first place…

“Anyway,” she said, not so subtly changing the subject, “you were saying earlier that you wanted to start your own boutique?”

“…Yeah,” Marinette replied, not completely sidetracked; the quiet concern was still there in her eyes, but she went along with the change of topic. “While I appreciate that Adrien wants to help me…I don’t like the thought of helping him chain himself to a career he’s not passionate about.”

“And it’s probably a bad idea to base your own career’s success on your boyfriend’s career,” Alya supposed, resting a hand on her hip. “One false investment, and you’re _both_ sunk.”

Marinette’s freckled nose wrinkled.

“I don’t think that would ever happen…but you raise a very good point,” she admitted. Alya shrugged with a slight smile.

“It’s my job to be the realist in the group.” She tossed her melted sherbet into a nearby trashcan before turning to face her best friend fully. “So, your own boutique, huh? I love it. What’s the first step, a bank loan?”

Marinette cringed.

“Probably…and I’ll have to fill out all this paperwork, since this is a small business I’m looking to start…it’s going to be difficult. And complicated.” She sighed, massaging her temple. Alya hated how tired her poor friend looked. “But I can’t even _worry_ about all of that right now, not with my superhero line still up in the air.”

“Oh, right,” Alya recalled with a frown. “Damn, girl, you’ve got too much going on. When was the last time you slept?”

Marinette’s expression told Alya everything she needed to know without Marinette having to say a single word. Alya cringed. Her poor fashion designer/superhero best friend.

“Okay…what are you going to do about your spring line? Is there anything that can be done?”

“Well,” Marinette began, her brows pinched together, “Adrien got the coordinators of Fashion Week to give me another shot, if I want it…”

“That’s great!”

“Yeah…except it’s not.”

“Why not?”

Marinette huffed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Because it sort of seems like bad luck, now,” she confessed, frustration seeping from her tone. “Call me crazy, but…I don’t know. I’m afraid that thing—Ladybug called her Shade, I think—will show up again if I dare to reschedule a new show. And I’m willing to bet not a lot of people will be lining up to watch a runway show that a supervillain crashed the first time.” The helpless look that crossed Marinette’s face hurt Alya. “I don’t know what to do. I’m officially stuck here…so…since it was _your_ idea to start a superhero spring line in the first place, Alya…is there _anything_ you can think of that could maybe help me out of this? Anything at all…?”

Alya was tempted to raise her eyebrows and point out that while she may be good, she was no _miracle_ worker…but the pleading look in Marinette’s eyes softened her, and so she began to give the matter serious thought. Hmm…a re-do of Marinette’s fashion debut…but she was afraid anything official would bring her to Shade’s attention once again…so then—

Before the gears in Alya’s logical mind could really get going, something else interrupted—something loud, that sounded like a chant:

“We are not monsters! We’re people, too! We are not monsters! We’re people, too!”

Alya blinked, her surprise reflected in the face of her best friend, though she was willing to bet that hers was stronger, because she _knew_ those voices a lot more intimately than Marinette did, no matter how much trouble they’d been giving Team Miraculous lately—

Alya turned as the chanting increased in volume, watching them marching into the plaza, their faces unmasked, their clothes normal, holding not goo, but honest-to-god _protest signs_. They marched tightly in a group, as if the thought of separating was terrifying beyond imagination, but they all wore the same determined expressions nevertheless.

It was Akumatized Victims Anonymous as Paris had never seen them before.

Alya _loved_ the change.

Others in the plaza stopped they were doing to watch AVA march past, and Alya watched their expressions carefully. Most of them were wary at best, but it heartened her to see the surprised, even _curious_ looks on a few faces as they watched this new AVA protest make its way to the center of the plaza.

When Marinette let out a groan, however, Alya began to worry.

“What are they up to _now_?” She complained, and Alya turned to watch her rub the bridge of her nose in agitation. “I really don’t have the patience for this today.”

Though Alya sympathized with what she understood to be Ladybug’s frustration, she couldn’t help the frown of indignation that crossed her face. Damn, was it too much to ask for her to give them a chance before she automatically assumed they were up to no good? Sure, given their past, her assumption would be a safe one, if circumstances weren’t different now…but _still_.

“Looks like they’re setting up for something,” Alya remarked, turning to watch them gather at the very center of the plaza. Nathanael was carrying a large crate, and he set it down before helping Myléne climb onto it. At the sight of the megaphone she held, Alya was suddenly surging forward, eager to get a front row seat to whatever was about to happen.

“Alya!” Marinette called from behind her, but other than a wave for her to follow, Alya didn’t pay her any mind, too busy pulling out her phone and readying her camera. She hoped they wouldn’t mind if she recorded this—it looked like it was going to be some prime material.

They didn’t seem to mind at all; Myléne even gave Alya a tremulous smile as she approached, and Alya reciprocated with a thumbs up. Even if she and Myléne talked all the time at university, she had no idea how much AVA’s movement truly meant to Alya…but it was still good to know that her presence was welcome.

As Alya knelt down to avoid blocking others’ view and to get a good angle for her recording, Myléne seemed to take a very deep breath, touching something pinned to her shirt—oh, wow, Alya hadn’t seen her wear that Ladybug badge in ages—before lifting the microphone up to her lips.

“…My name is Myléne Hapréle,” she introduced herself, her sweet voice warbling from nervousness. Juleka reached up to pat her arm, and Myléne seemed to draw confidence from the gesture. She swallowed, gave a tiny nod, and continued. “I’m a drama major in my university, and I’m going to be married next month.” Something like steel glinted in her amber eyes. “And seven years ago, I was akumatized.”

Alya felt a presence behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, and noticed with some satisfaction that people were beginning to draw nearer. In Alya’s opinion, it was a smart decision for Myléne to head this new protest direction—she had an aura about her that made others want to protect her, though she was anything but a pushover.

Myléne looked relieved, encouraged by the crowd that was gathering; her voice continued to grow stronger as she continued her tale.

“It was terrifying. I don’t know if I can really explain it in a way anyone who hasn’t been akumatized will be able to understand. But it’s like…a black hole just swallows you. And you don’t know what you’re doing—you don’t even know who you _are_ —until maybe hours later, when it’s all over and…and you have to be _told_ about what happened. What you did.”

Myléne shook her head, as if to rid herself of bad memories.

“But I am _not_ the monster someone else made me,” she asserted, and Alya felt a chill go through her, recognizing the words, even if Myléne had no clue that she was the one that had spoken them. “I’m Myléne Hapréle. I’m a person, too.”

The members of AVA surrounding Myléne applauded her as she stepped down from the crate and passed the megaphone on. Alya would have liked to join in, but she didn’t dare stop recording, though she thought she could hear a couple of sporadic claps behind her. She didn’t turn around to make sure, too focused on her task as the next AVA member was passed the megaphone and jumped onto the crate—Myléne’s father, Fred Hapréle. Alya stared in interest. Huh…she didn’t remember seeing him at any of the previous AVA meetings…when did he join the cause?

“I’m Fred,” he introduced himself simply, removing his bowler hat with his free hand, revealing the silver streaks in his dark hair. “Seven years ago, I was akumatized, and apparently, I participated in vandalism of the greatest degree: I actually cut the Eiffel Tower in _half._ Can you believe that? These noodle arms did something like _that!_ It’s crazy!”

There was some nervous laughter from the crowd behind Alya, as if they weren’t sure whether they should find this funny or not. Fred smiled and nodded.

“It’s okay. It’s in the past now.” His smile faded into a grim look. “But now history has repeated itself. We have a new supervillain on the loose, but instead of banding together, we’ve turned on each other.”

He quietly surveyed the crowd, and Alya had to admit that there was a certain weight to his stare that even _she_ felt, despite being on AVA’s side.

“…Things shouldn’t be like this,” he said, quietly but decisively. “I think we can do better. And the first step is accepting what happened in the past, and moving on from it. We’re not monsters. My daughter, whom you just heard speak, isn’t a monster. We’re people, just like you.”

He replaced his bowler hat upon his head and stepped down, and Alya could hear a little more clapping behind her. She risked a glance back—wow. There were a lot of people behind her suddenly. Surprising…but there was no way she was complaining.

The crowd only continued to grow as the AVA members continued their peaceful protest, and soon Alya wasn’t the only one recording; there were phones everywhere, cameras recording, pictures being taken. It warmed Alya to know that AVA was finally getting the right kind of exposure, but she didn’t feel truly accomplished until Marinette, who had been hovering indecisively at the edge of the crowd, finally joined her at the front, sitting down carefully as she watched the protest, no anger or annoyance in her expression now…but quiet concern.

Alya grinned. _There_ was her superhero idol, right there in that look. She was so glad.

But of course, that concern was about to be challenged, for none other than Chloé Bourgeois now took the stage—er, crate. Still, she stood upon it like it was a stage, her head held high as she observed the crowd, a queen taking inventory of her subjects. Someone tried to pass her the megaphone, but she waved them back, clearly confident in her carrying voice. Alya heard muttering behind her at the reality T.V. star’s appearance, and she bit back a groan. Just what were they thinking, letting Chloé open up her big mouth right now?

Predictably enough, Chloé’s ego took center stage the minute she opened said big mouth.

“I don’t really think I need to introduce myself; only people living under a _rock_ don’t know who I am,” she said with a flip of her blonde locks, and Alya heard Marinette scoff beside her. She cringed. There went any credibility AVA was beginning to gain…

Nathanael nudged Chloé from behind, raising his eyebrows at her when she looked over at him. Alya watched, intrigued, as Chloé huffed and folded her arms, red painting her cheeks.

“…I’m Chloé Bourgeois,” she introduced herself anyway, curling a blonde strand around her finger. “Seven years ago, I was akumatized…” Her perfect skin wrinkled as she frowned at her designer shoes. “…And, while I don’t think I should be blamed for what a man with demonic butterflies did to a bunch of people…I suppose…I could’ve been kinder in the past, too.”

…

What?

From her peripheral vision, Alya saw Marinette’s jaw drop, so she knew she wasn’t hearing things. But still, it was such a shock: Chloé Bourgeois, _apologizing_ for her behavior??

Chloé huffed again, as if getting all this attention was putting her out.

“Listen, a lot of things happened that made me start thinking…well, maybe the world isn’t as black and white as I used to think.” She glared at the crowd. “And it _certainly_ isn’t divided into akumas and other Parisians, if _that’s_ what you’re all thinking. We’re _all_ citizens of this city, okay? And while I know that I should probably take responsibility for my own actions…” She looked briefly uncomfortable before that haughty scowl returned. “Whatever I did as Anti-Bug is _not_ my fault! No one can keep control when a crazy person with magical powers takes over your mind—get that through your thick skulls!”

Chloé stomped off the crate, to a smattering of confused applause. Alya shook her head, but supposed that it might be the closest thing to remorse anyone would ever get out of Chloé Bourgeois.

Though Alya knew there were still more members with stories to share, Chloé was apparently the closing act—AVA crowded together once again, and Nathanael picked up the crate as—whoa, wait, wasn’t that the guy known as Poseidon? When had _he_ joined?! Alya needed to suit up again soon just to see what was going on, because apparently, Vixen was a bit out of the loop right now.

In any case, Poseidon lifted the megaphone next, and called to the crowd:

“There are more stories for us to share, but we want to hear from you, too. Akumas affect everyone, so if you have a story to share, whether it happened to you or someone you know, we want to hear it. Contact us at theavamovement.org. We can help you…because we’re just like you. Thank you.”

AVA departed to the strongest of applauses they had received thus far. Still, they left in as tightly-knit a group as they came in, and it hurt Alya’s heart to know that such caution was probably necessary. Inwardly, she wished them a safe trip home.

“Well,” she said, getting up and stretching her legs as she hit the ‘stop’ button on her phone, “that was…different. No persecution of certain superheroes, at least…”

Marinette said nothing as she climbed to her feet. Alya took in her frown curiously.

“What?” She asked over the chatter of the crowd that was slowly dispersing behind them; Alya dared to be encouraged by the intrigued babble she could hear, even if no exact words were distinct.

Marinette bit her lip, seeming to struggle with herself for a moment…and then she abruptly burst into speech.

“I should’ve been there for them,” she said, guilt turning her bluebell eyes dark. She looked away, at the place AVA had disappeared, cupping her elbows. “If I had done something earlier…maybe they wouldn’t have felt that they needed to take matters into their own hands in the first place.”

Alya blinked.

“…This isn’t your fault, Marinette,” she pointed out, worried over the way her friend seemed to be carrying this immense guilt around inside of her. “No one could’ve guessed how things would go down when a new akuma-crazed psycho resurfaced in Paris.”

“But I’m—!” Marinette abruptly stopped talking, turning wide eyes onto Alya, as if she just realized to whom she was speaking. Ah…she must have forgotten that Alya ‘didn’t know’ her dotty little secret. The reporter bit back her amusement at the irony and waited for Marinette to rework her sentence into something acceptable for the situation. “I mean…I-I know a lot of the AVA members. I grew up with most of them.” She shook her head, looking absolutely miserable. “I know it’s dumb, but…I just feel like I failed them, somehow.” In a smaller voice, she added, “Even now, though it looks like they don’t need my help…I wish there was something I could do for them.”

Alya tilted her head. Wow, one peaceful protest from AVA, and Marinette was all sympathy, her earlier irritation with AVA seemingly vanishing.

They were in for a _big_ ‘I told you so’ when Vixen dropped in on them again.

Smiling a little, Alya stepped forward, patting Marinette’s shoulder.

“You know…I think all they really need is to be shown a little faith,” she said, pushing a corner of Marinette’s pouting lips up into an artificial smile. “Half the city’s been against them for a long time…I think it would mean a lot for you to support them.”

Marinette stared at Alya, looking anxious and lost; this was an expression Alya hadn’t seen on her in a while, and its reappearance was not reassuring. The poor thing _really_ had too much going on.

“…But how do I do that?” She asked, her shoulders slumping. “I haven’t been akumatized, so it’s not like I can relate, exactly…”

“Mm-hm,” Alya hummed, supposing she had a point. And though Marinette knew the circumstances of each akumatized victim personally, thanks to her moonlighting as Ladybug, it wasn’t as if she could share said experiences, for the details would be way too telling for her own good…

Ladybug…

In her mind’s eye, Alya once again saw the Ladybug badge pinned to Myléne’s shirt, something that surprised her, for she had believed the whole of AVA had turned their backs on Team Miraculous…but apparently, a select few still held onto their hero worship…

And then it hit Alya, a glorious stroke of inspiration that she would later pat herself on the back for…but only if she managed to get certain parties on board…

“A street performance,” she said under her breath, causing Marinette to frown.

“Huh?”

Alya gestured around them.

“Plaza Pompidou! It’s famous for its street performances; people come here all the time to see musicians, performance art, even mimes!” Excited now, Alya seized Marinette’s shoulders, a huge grin splitting her face as her own genius ran away with her. “Marinette—you could hold your own fashion show here!”

Marinette blinked in rapid succession, looking like she was worried about Alya’s mental health.

“…Alya, we were talking about AVA—”

“That’s the best part!” Alya interjected, “you want to show your support for them, right? Then have _them_ model your superhero line!”

Now Marinette’s eyes widened, her mouth slightly open as she stared at Alya.

“Wh…but…” Alya waited, watching as Marinette began to frown, speculation entering her gaze. Her lips pursed as she considered for a long while…

“…That’s…actually not a bad idea,” she concluded at last, sounding surprised by her own conclusion. Alya snickered and let go of Marinette, giving a mock bow.

“Thank you, thank you, please, hold your applause,” she said dramatically, and Marinette gave a giggle at her best friend’s antics. All too soon, however, her brow began to pucker again.

“…But Alya, wouldn’t having AVA members model superhero clothing be a conflict of interest?” She folded her arms, looking troubled. “I don’t think Team Miraculous would be very happy about being represented by a group that burned a Chat Noir scarecrow in front of City Hall just a week ago…”

…Ah. That was true. And Alya was willing to bet that a certain ex-model wouldn’t be keen on the idea, either…

“You have a point,” she conceded before pressing hers. “But think about it, Marinette—what better way to show support towards victims of prejudice than allying them with the image of Paris’ idols?”

Marinette still looked dubious, so Alya backtracked a bit.

“I know things have been tense between the heroes and the citizens,” she acknowledged with a solemn nod. “And I’m not saying you should rush into trusting your brand with AVA, especially if this new direction of theirs doesn’t last very long. I’m just saying it’s an option.” She smiled and patted Marinette’s shoulder once again. “Just think about it: if you were a previously akumatized victim, with half the city against you, and some crazy talented designer decided you were a perfect fit for a superhero brand she’d created, how awesome would you feel about yourself, knowing that there was someone out there who was willing to believe in you that much?”

Alya gave Marinette a wink.

“Personally, if it was me, I’d be thrilled.”

The look Marinette gave her…it intrigued Alya. It was like Marinette was looking at her for the first time, perhaps recognizing that Alya, too, had been there and done that when it came to being akumatized. The speculation returning to her gaze, Marinette looked away from Alya, at the spot where AVA had staged its first non-chaotic protest, gripping her chin as she thought.

“…I’ll think about it,” she decided.

Alya willingly let the matter drop after that. If Marinette was willing to at least consider featuring a couple AVA members in tandem with her superhero line, then Alya’s work was done.

 

* * *

 

The end of Fashion Week had come and gone, and while Adrien was more than relieved to have the whole thing over with, he couldn’t help but regret that Marinette had refused a second debut after all. It broke his heart to think about how her big moment had been marred by a creature such as Shade, and he burned with the injustice. If he ever found out who was hiding under all that darkness…

Ah, but now was not the moment—he had gotten a text from Alya to meet her at Plaza Pompidou for something, and he had agreed, though half of him wished he had been able to get a hold of Marinette. It was Saturday, so he had been hoping to maybe spend some time with her, see how she was doing…maybe discuss some things other than fashion that really needed to be addressed sooner rather than later…

When he entered the plaza, his eyes were immediately drawn to what appeared to be…

A makeshift runway?

“Yo, Agreste! Over here!”

Alya stood off to the side of the makeshift runway; he was just able to spot her in between the curious onlookers surrounding the area, grinning widely as she waved him over with her free hand, the other gripping her phone, as usual. Adrien waved back as he made his way over, stealing glances at the large red curtain that took up the center of the plaza, his curiosity growing the longer he stared.

“Hey. Do you know what the deal is with the curtain?” He asked Alya once he was close enough. Alya’s grin was mischievous, and suddenly, Adrien was on guard. Why did he have a bad feeling about this…?

“I do know—Marinette’s going to be putting on her very own fashion show,” she announced proudly.

Adrien stared, his mouth coming open with a pop.

“Huh?” He sputtered, uncomprehending. Her own fashion…what? When had this been decided? And more importantly, why hadn’t he been told?

“It was meant to be a surprise,” Alya told him, seeming to guess his feelings from the look on his face. Adrien regarded her carefully.

“You knew,” he said, hoping his tone didn’t sound as petulant as he feared it might. Alya gave a shrug.

“Well yeah, but I’m the one who suggested it in the first place.” Hooking an arm around Adrien’s, she pulled him towards the curtain. “Come on, come see!”

Adrien allowed her to drag him behind the curtain, where he was surprised at how...well, _organized_ things were “backstage”, considering this was essentially a street performance. Still, there were a lot of people here, and while he thought he could hear Marinette somewhere, she was obscured from his vision by all the people running around…people that were awfully familiar—

“Oh, Adriho—I mean, Adrien,” said a startlingly familiar voice, and Adrien turned to find _Chloé_ of all people here…in _one of Marinette’s designs._

Chloé lifted the honeycomb mask from her face to eye him up and down, her lips pursed. They had fallen out of touch over the months, so Adrien supposed it wasn’t out of character for Chloé to regard him with her narrowed blue eyes, and ask in a tone that was almost waspish:

“What are you doing here?”

That was Adrien’s question…but he decided to be civil.

“I’m…here to watch Marinette’s fashion show, apparently,” he said with an uncertain glance at Alya.

“Oh, of course,” Chloé drawled, rolling her eyes. “I hear you two are an item now.”

“Something you have no business being sour about,” Alya cut in with a raised eyebrow. “Not after what I’ve been hearing about you and a certain red-head—”

“Mind your own business, Césaire!” Chloé squawked, turning a bright shade of pink before she stomped off, Alya grinning in triumph. Adrien almost asked…but then decided that that was probably a can of worms best left unopen. Besides, there were more pressing questions that needed answers…

“What’s going on? Why is Chloé here modeling one of Mari’s designs? She actually allowed this?”

“It wasn’t my idea,” said a weary voice, and Adrien turned again to find that his girlfriend had appeared, a pincushion strapped to her wrist, her hair tied up in a bun, and a weary but determined expression on her face. As she greeted Adrien with a kiss to the cheek, she gave a brief frown. “Chloé was the only one whose measurements fit the Bee outfit. …And it looks really good on her, unfortunately.”

Alya patted Marinette’s shoulder in sympathy.

“You only have to put up with her for today,” she reminded Marinette, who sighed but nodded.

“Right. Well, having Nath around to keep her occupied helps.” She shook her head in mild disbelief. “I _still_ can’t believe they’re dating.”

“You must’ve ruined him for all the other good women in Paris,” Alya teased, laughing as Marinette swatted her in retribution.

“Marinette,” Adrien interrupted their banter, frowning as he surveyed all the people wearing her outfits, slowly connecting the dots… “Why are there so many AVA members here? And why are you letting them model your outfits?”

The playful mood vanished, and Marinette bit her lip as she looked anxiously up at him.

“Oh,” she began softly, fidgeting, “well—”

“It was my idea,” Alya cut in, raising a hand to take the blame. “I thought it’d be a cool idea—you know, show some support for the new direction AVA seems to be heading in.”

Adrien frowned. Yes, he knew the ‘change’ AVA had been going through—it had been on the news, though these new protests weren’t featured as constantly as their old ones…probably because they were less exciting when no one was rioting or flinging goo or harassing public authority figures…

Adrien looked away from Alya, focusing solely on Marinette.

“…You agreed to this?” He asked quietly, staring her down.

…Honestly? He didn’t like this. Not only had Marinette and Alya basically blindsided him with this, but to allow AVA members to be associated with Paris’ superheroes? After everything they’d put Team Miraculous through? After everything _he’d_ had to bear from them?

He thought Alya would’ve known better than that, but what really hurt was _Marinette_ agreeing to go along with this. _That_ was what hurt, because, even if they hadn’t properly addressed it yet, she knew, better than _anyone_ , how he’d been suffering in trying to right all the wrongs he had committed. And it wasn’t like he didn’t get why AVA was angry with him—he did—but he never thought Marinette would actually _side_ with them like this…not after he had apologized to her and had been working to make amends ever since he rejoined the team…

Guilt. There was guilt there, in Marinette’s eyes.

So she knew what she was doing, knew that this choice wouldn’t please him…and yet she had chosen to go through with it anyway.

What was she thinking…?

There was a sharp clearing of a throat, and Adrien glanced over at Alya, who was regarding him with a flat look.

“This isn’t about you, Agreste,” she said shortly, her hands on her hips. “This is about Marinette and her career. She’s actually making moves to go out on a limb on her own, as well as making a statement by giving a platform to those who need to be heard. So, I don’t know what your problem is…” Her eyes said that she _definitely_ knew what his problem was, but she couldn’t let on that she knew too much in front of Marinette… “…but get over it. The show’ll start soon.”

Alya left then, calling for everybody to get their shit together, because they had about five minutes before this thing was about to start. As the rushing around increased, someone called for Marinette’s assistance, but she did not move, her anxious bluebell gaze fixed on Adrien’s face. Slowly, she reached for his hand, and he let her have it, wanting to be reassured by her touch. But the shock was still too strong, so all he felt was numb.

“I’ll explain everything later,” Marinette said softly, giving his hand a squeeze. “I promise.”

‘Later’.

Everything always had to be discussed ‘later’, didn’t it?

Adrien was really beginning to hate that word.

Nevertheless, he swallowed his feelings and nodded. Marinette gave him a hesitant smile before answering the summons of one of the models. Adrien watched her dark hair vanish back into the mob backstage, and then he turned, leaving the area to join the waiting crowd on the other side of the curtain, their intrigued chatter doing nothing to bolster his confidence in his girlfriend’s impromptu fashion show.

This was stupid—he really didn’t want to let this get to him, didn’t want to make it about him, like Alya said. He should be glad that Marinette was making strides to do something for herself, working tirelessly to accomplish this goal she had been chasing for so long…

Adrien knew what he was _supposed_ to be feeling right now.

But what he _should_ be feeling and what he _was_ feeling were two opposite ends of the spectrum, spheres that would not touch.

Adrien knew he should be proud of Marinette.

But he just felt betrayed instead.

 

* * *

 

Alya scowled at her computer screen, incensed.

This had to be the maddest she had ever been at Eric—here she had prime footage of the human side of AVA, sharing their stories and modeling amazing fashions, footage that was practically a gold mine of hits just waiting to happen…and then her jackass of a boss said that he wouldn’t accept them!

“ _It won’t sell,_ ” he had told her when Alya presented her work to him, already cut and edited, ready to be added to _Paris Today_ ’s website as soon as he gave the okay… “ _Nobody cares about the human side of AVA—they were more interesting to report on when they were rioting and out of control. Besides, this is just a phase. I’ll bet you my editor-in-chief title that they’ll go back to the goo-flinging within a week, tops. Now, if you bring me some of_ that _footage, I’ll allow it to be published to the site. Hell, I’ll even let you put your name on it!_ ”

It had taken all of Alya’s willpower not to slam her narrow-minded boss’ head into his desk and staple his ears to the wood. Oooh, she was pissed!

Nobody cared, huh…?

Seized by her vindictive fury, Alya had returned to her apartment and got to work right away, uploading videos left and right. Eric wanted to make a bet? All right, Alya was game. If these videos reached over a thousand hits before the week was out, Alya was gonna kick down his door, rub her _personal_ blog’s success in his face, and demand either his job, or a raise that equaled his.

She was not the goddamn moderator of the Ladyblog for nothing, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, kids: the ride's only gonna get more rocky from here. :D
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	33. Revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter, the song in the link is important to keep in mind:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UyinuvmTboc
> 
> Not the lyrics, necessarily, but the melody...it's significant to this chapter.
> 
> Also, yes, the chapter title is exactly what you think it is.
> 
> Enjoy... :D
> 
> ~Reyna

_“Ladybug, Ladybug, death comes for you. Paris is on fire, and your friends are all doomed. Even those two, the turtle and cat. And soon, I’ll squish you all like a gnat…”_

 

* * *

Marinette jolted awake, gasping as her eyes sprang open. For a wild moment, she thought she saw eerie bright eyes staring at her…but then her eyes adjusted to the light in her room, and she realized there was nothing there. Still, her heart was beating way too fast, and she had to force herself to breathe, shifting uncomfortably as her clothes clung to her body, thanks to the cold sweat she had broken out in. God, _that_ had been a terrifying lullaby to dream about…

“Are you all right, Marinette?” Tikki wanted to know, leaving her pillow to float next to Marinette’s face, regarding her with concern. Marinette let out a slow breath and smiled, stroking Tikki’s head, between her antennae.

“I’m fine. Just had a weird dream…”

“What about?”

Marinette paused to think about it…but the more she tried to recall it, the more details began to slip from her mind. After a moment, she was left with nothing but a faint, sinister melody that chilled her to think about, and so she stopped.

“I don’t know,” she confessed, cringing. “I guess it wasn’t important.”

Tikki’s indigo eyes were wide and worried, so Marinette smiled to assure her that she was fine. After all, it really must _not_ have been important, if she forgot it immediately upon waking up…

Her phone suddenly began to buzz on her nightstand. Marinette grabbed it, frowning at the ‘Unknown’ display on her screen. Damn, she had been hoping it was Adrien calling…who was this, and what did they want?

As tempted as she was to let it go straight to voicemail, Marinette’s curiosity won out, for she was rarely ever called by telemarketers or anything of the like—something she attributed to her luck. Wondering if that luck was about to be tested, Marinette hit the answer button, clearing her throat.

“Hello?”

“Good morning. Is this Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

Marinette frowned at her floor. This voice…she knew this voice…but from where…?

“Yes?” She answered uncertainly. The voice on the other end of the line sounded amused as it continued,

“ _Mlle._ Dupain-Cheng, this is Amara Sainte de-Couquille. We met at my husband’s Winter Gala, do you remember?”

“Oh! _Mme._ Sainte de-Couquille!” Marinette exclaimed in surprise, nearly dropping her phone. She clung to it tighter and inwardly ordered herself to get it together. “Y-yes, of course I remember you! Uh, congratulations, by the way—I heard you’re having a baby.”

“Oh, thank you,” Amara said warmly. “I suppose Adrien told you the news?”

“Oh…yes,” Marinette answered, frowning to herself.

Speaking of Adrien…Marinette hadn’t seen a whole lot of him this week. Granted, she had been scrambling around on her own, making moves towards the dream of owning her own boutique, but still—

“I just spoke with him yesterday; he was the one who gave me your number,” Amara explained. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all,” Marinette replied, waving a hand through the air before she remembered that Amara couldn’t see it. “Um, what can I do for you, _Mme._ Sainte de—”

“Please, call me Amara,” Amara interjected, sounding amused again. “My husband’s name is a bit of a mouthful, isn’t it?” Her tone was suddenly business-like as she added, “Speaking of my husband, we were discussing some things just the other day, and as it happens, he and I have a proposition for you.”

Marinette blinked.

“A…proposition?” She repeated, uncertain.

“Yes. I’m sure you’re quite aware of this already, but your superhero spring line has garnered a lot of attention throughout Paris.”

Oh, Marinette knew all right. While she hadn’t expected Alya would upload the footage she’d taken during Marinette’s impromptu fashion show, what was even _more_ unexpected was the astounding amount of hits the Ladyblog kept receiving because of it. Alya hadn’t stopped gloating about it either—“somehow”, the CEO of _Paris Today_ had found out that she had the scoop on the AVA fashion show before any other news team, and the news that Eric had vetoed posting the videos to their news website had landed him in some _very_ hot water. Alya’s smug smirk was ever present as she kept Marinette updated on all the messages and comments people posted on the blog, which were overwhelmingly positive, to the point where Marinette was in tears from all this love and support. She still had a long way to go, of course, if she wanted to keep her dream alive, but seeing her first line get so much attention after she had slaved over it for months and months…Marinette could not be more grateful, nor more humbled.

“As I understand it, though your line was meant to be carried by Agreste Fashion, Adrien told me that this is no longer the case?” Amara spoke, pulling Marinette from her thoughts.

“Oh…yes, that’s right,” Marinette answered, frowning again at the mention of her MIA boyfriend. Seriously, she was going to have to track him down sooner rather than later… “While Adrien has helped me out a lot…this is something I need to do on my own. So I’m working towards starting my own boutique.”

“I respect that,” Amara said, and there was indeed admiration in her tone. “As talented as you are, I’m sure any boutique you start would be highly successful.”

Marinette felt herself blush, and she giggled nervously.

“Um, thank you. I hope so, too.”

“That being said, while I recognize your need for independence, I do wonder if you’re against accepting investors?”

Marinette nearly dropped her phone again; she managed to hold onto it, but there was no hope for her jaw as her mouth went slack.

Wait…Amara wasn’t saying what she thought she was saying…was she?

“I-investors?” Marinette cringed. Ugh, why did she have to go into a stuttering mess right _now_?

“Yes,” Amara replied, seeming unperturbed by Marinette tripping over her own tongue. “I am very intrigued by your designs—by the Peacock dress, especially. I’ve never seen anything like it before; it’s exquisite. So I spoke with Jacques and showed him your work, and he agrees that Marinette Dupain-Cheng originals would indeed prove to be a very lucrative investment.”

Marinette couldn’t believe her ears. There was no way, right? She had to be dreaming, right?

There was _no way_ she had a potential investor just a _week_ after her street debut, right?!

Just to be sure, Marinette pinched herself, wincing when it hurt.

Not a dream, then. Okay…

Marinette forced herself to take a deep breath before answering, as calmly as she could,

“I would be honored by your investment, Amara…but I’m afraid there’s not really much to invest in at the moment. There’s still a lot of legwork I have to do before I can get started—finding premises for my boutique, securing fabric suppliers, hiring staff—”

“I have the utmost faith that you will be able to accomplish all that and more,” Amara replied calmly and without hesitation. “Once you’ve narrowed down your decision for a place, feel free to contact me at this number. And let me know if you have any issues with suppliers—I may be retired, but I still have a few old friends with favors I may be able to call in.”

So this was really happening, then…

“Amara…thank you,” Marinette said, unable to truly express how much this support meant to her; she hoped a simple word of thanks would suffice, for now.

Amara laughed warmly.

“No no, Marinette, thank you.” She paused a moment. “…I don’t think you realize what it meant, for you to give your support to those who have been affected by the supervillain that plagues Paris. Seeing those videos featuring AVA members wearing superhero symbols…it meant a great deal to me, and Jacques as well. It’s lovely to know that someone as wonderful as you is compassionate enough to put your faith in people like my husband, who have suffered through such ordeals. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.”

Marinette felt herself blush all the way up to her hairline.

Wow…admittedly, she hadn’t been thinking about what her decision to support AVA through her fashion line might look like to people who weren’t directly involved…but actually hearing such gratitude from someone who had indeed been affected by Shade’s madness…

“You’re welcome,” she said shyly. Amara bid her a fond farewell before hanging up, and Marinette lowered her phone to her lap, staring blankly at the floor for a few seconds.

And then she screamed.

“Marinette!” Tikki yelped, so startled that she fell out of the air and landed on her pillow, her tiny hands pressed over the sides of her head, where her ears would be. “What’s wrong?!”

“Nothing!” Marinette exclaimed, jumping to her feet, filled with so much restless energy that she danced in place, wiggling her backside in excitement. “Everything’s _perfect!_ I just got my first investor for my boutique! This is _great!_ ”

Immediately, she snatched up her phone again, wanting to call Adrien and tell him the news—

Her thumb stopped just as she was about to press the dial button on her phone, and as Marinette stared at Adrien’s profile picture on her phone—she had taken it back when his hair was still long—she felt her sudden excited bubble pop.

Adrien wasn’t happy with her. Though they hadn’t made time to discuss it yet, she already knew she was in trouble with him—the look on his face the day of her street fashion show had said it all. Sure, he had smiled and congratulated her afterwards on a job well done, and he had been answering the sporadic texts she’d sent him all week…but every time she tried to see him, he had been strangely busy. Marinette had been willing to chalk it up to their conflicting schedules—it wasn’t like she had been readily available all week, either—but as more days came and went, she was beginning to think there was a lot more to Adrien’s absence than she wanted to believe.

“Marinette?” Tikki asked, clearly concerned about her Chosen’s abrupt shift in mood once again. “…Is something wrong?”

Marinette sighed.

“…I think so,” she replied, slowly sinking down onto her bed again, still staring at Adrien’s profile picture in her phone. “But I don’t really know what to do about it.”

She knew how Adrien felt about AVA, because it was how _she_ used to feel about AVA, so learning, quite out of the blue, that his girlfriend intended to center her impromptu fashion show around them could not have felt good. She probably should have told him instead of blindsiding him like that…

But on the other hand, despite all the terrible things they’d done that Marinette didn’t agree with, they were working towards turning their image around now, and Marinette couldn’t make herself regret putting her faith in this new AVA, not after seeing first-hand how hard they were working to change. She just couldn’t bring herself to hold a grudge against them—if she could forgive Chat Noir and give him a second chance, then certainly AVA deserved the same courtesy, didn’t they?

Marinette feared that she was probably the only one who felt that way, if Adrien’s conspicuous absence these past few days was any indication.

She sighed. They were going to have to have a very, very, _very_ long conversation, and soon, if Marinette wanted to keep her boyfriend and her partner. Just…not now. They would talk later, once Marinette felt like she was treading water in the stormy ocean that was currently her life, instead of just struggling to keep her head above the surface.

Giving Tikki a reassuring stroke when she continued to look worried, Marinette scrolled down to the next contact in her phone: Alya. If anything, Alya was always hyped when Marinette gave her good news, so for now, she would limit this particular victory to her, her kwami, and her best friend.

 

* * *

 

“Dude, that’s like, the fifth time you’ve sighed in the past two minutes. Seriously, what’s up?”

Adrien groaned to himself. He wasn’t being very subtle about how down he was, was he?

“Sorry, Nino,” he apologized, wedging his phone in between his ear and his shoulder as he typed a quick response to the e-mail Sylvia sent him—something about a model showing up for work, drunk for the third consecutive day this week. Joy. “Just not in a great mood today.”

“I can tell. You wanna talk about it?”

Adrien smiled bitterly to himself.

“Aren’t you sick of being my constant relationship counselor?”

“So this is about ‘Nette?” Nino guessed, causing Adrien to cringe. Oops.

“It’s…nothing,” Adrien huffed, clicking ‘send’ on the e-mail before he removed his phone from his shoulder, getting up from his desk to stare broodingly out the glass wall of his office. “Forget it.”

“Doesn’t _sound_ like nothing,” Nino persisted, his tone bordering on concern and exasperation. “What’s going on?”

Adrien frowned. Though he had been wishing for someone to talk to about this, his options were limited: Nino, though he was well-meaning, could never be told the whole story, for it would involve a _lot_ of identity reveals that Adrien couldn’t get into for a multitude of reasons. Ivan, bless him, already had too much information without Adrien adding to the pile, so his vague frustrations couldn’t really be worked out with his therapist, either. And Alya, though she knew about as much as Ivan, if not less so, was Marinette’s best friend, and the instigator of this particular problem, so she was probably the last person Adrien would want to confide in.

Besides, Adrien didn’t _want_ to confide in anybody else. He wanted to talk to _Marinette_ about all this, but she was so busy running around and making plans for her new boutique that he found it hard to ask her for a moment of her time. Of course, she had tried to make plans with him on her own, but he always ended up saying that he was too busy to see her, a blatant lie that they were both choosing to ignore. But Adrien was afraid that if he saw her, that he would lose any and all composure he had left and demand that they finally, _finally_ talk about all the unspoken things between them. Sure, he had believed that he could wait for as long as she needed him to, but he was finding more and more with every day that passed that his patience was beginning to run out. And if he tried pushing the issue before Marinette was ready…

“Adrien?” Nino called, his voice filtering through Adrien’s consciousness from far away. “Hello? Dude, are you still there?”

“Yeah,” Adrien huffed, closing his eyes to block out his frustrated expression in the glass before him, a hand reaching back to rub the back of his neck. “It’s really nothing, Nino. Just…something I have to work out with Marinette. Besides, don’t you have your own relationship problems to worry about without trying to solve mine, too?”

Nino went silent. Immediately, Adrien felt horrible, like he had thrown Nino’s current problems back in his face to deflect from his own troubles.

“Nino…I'm sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, I—”

“It’s fine,” Nino cut him off, though it sounded like it was anything but fine. “It’s not like you’re wrong…”

There was an awkward pause.

“…Have you talked to her at all, lately?”

“…No.” Nino heaved a sigh that made Adrien ache for him. “I just…need some space, right now.”

“Wow…she must have really upset you with whatever she said.”

Nino chuckled darkly.

“Yeah. She’s good at that. Not that I was fighting fair either, but…” He sighed again. “I dunno, man. I’m pissed at her for what she said, yeah…but mostly, I’m mad because it was stuff I was thinking all on my own, and…I guess it stung a lot worse to hear someone else say it.”

Adrien frowned. He didn’t know what words had been exchanged between Nino and Alya, only that they weren’t speaking at the moment. It seemed like a rough time for every couple in their group, currently, though Adrien couldn’t really be sure how distracted Alya was by this; she seemed to be keeping herself busy enough, lately…

“…You guys’ll be okay,” Adrien said, more to himself than to Nino. “I know I haven’t been around for most of your relationship, but from what I’ve seen, you guys always seem in sync. I think you’ll be fine…as long as you want to be, anyway.”

“…Yeah,” Nino agreed after a moment. “Relationships are hard, man.”

“I know,” Adrien replied wryly. “You just don’t realize how hard until you hit the rocky parts.”

He and Nino sighed as one. He wished his best friend was here so they could share a drink or something later…but he was busy bringing great music to the rest of France, and Adrien really couldn’t begrudge him that.

“How’re other things over there?” Nino asked suddenly, “y’know…supernatural-wise.”

Adrien frowned at his reflection in the glass wall. Oh, right… _that_.

“…It’s quiet,” he replied, wary. “Too quiet.”

“Hmm,” Nino hummed, and left it at that. Adrien was content not to say anything more on the subject—it was another thing he was on edge about, because the sudden silence after Shade had revealed herself was unnerving…doubly so because there was a high possibility that she knew the identities of two out of the three heroes of Team Miraculous. Adrien couldn’t be sure, but it almost felt like she was biding her time, waiting for the exact moment to strike, just when they least expected it—

“Ah, okay, I’m coming,” Nino said, apropos of nothing. Adrien gave his phone an odd look, but before he could ask, Nino was already explaining. “Hey dude, sorry, but I gotta go—they want me to do a sound check before the concert tonight.”

Adrien smiled.

“I don’t mind,” he assured his best friend, waving away the apology. “It’s cool how famous you’re getting. Promise not to forget us little people once you go platinum, all right?”

Nino gave a loud snort, the sound comforting to Adrien.

“Yeah, sure. Anyway, I should be back by the end of the week, so if you’re still in a shitty place by the time I get back, let’s go drown our worries in some alcohol, all right? And I mean the _hard_ stuff, not that zinfandel crap you like so much.”

“What is with you and your hatred of wine?” Adrien wanted to know, shaking his head with a grin. “Did a vineyard kill your family or something?”

“Hey, you leave my moms out of this.” His voice was suddenly muffled, as if he had his hand over his phone as he spoke to someone in the background. “Okay, I really gotta go. Later, dude!”

“Good luck!”

Adrien hung up, marginally more cheerful than he had been all week. Nino just had that effect on him—his natural laid-back demeanor soothed Adrien when he was anxious, and it was one of his favorite things about his best friend. And, though he wished it wasn’t so, having someone going through the same thing he was in regards to their significant others made Adrien feel less alone in his problems.

…Now if only he could work out said problems with said significant other…

He sighed yet again, returning to his desk and slumping in his seat. His eyelids were very heavy, and he blamed that on not sleeping much as of late, but now instead of worrying about fashion stuff, he was worrying about Marinette. It was almost like he couldn’t win, no matter what he did.

He was so very sleepy…

“ _Chat Noir, Chat Noir, your end will come. Paris is on fire, and your loved ones are gone. All except one, your sweet ladybug. But she will die in the grave you've dug._ ”

Adrien jerked awake, blinking in a startled fashion.

That…what _was_ that?!

“Plagg!” Adrien called, wrenching his desk drawer open to reveal his kwami, mid-swallow with a chunk of camembert. “Are you…singing?”

Plagg finished swallowing, giving Adrien a dry look right after.

“Barring the occasional musical, when have you _ever_ known me to sing, kid?” He pointed out. Adrien frowned, supposing he had a point. But then…where had that song come from…?

“You sure you weren’t just dreaming?”

Adrien shook his head experimentally. He had been sitting here…his eyes had drifted closed…yeah. Maybe he had been dreaming.

Still, though…why would he have such a troubling dream? Was he not allowed to have peace even while he slept?

Adrien rubbed at his face, getting up to pour himself a cup of coffee.

He just needed a pick-me-up, that was all. And then he’d get back to work—with all he had to deal with right now, fretting about drunk models was a welcome release.

 

* * *

 

“How about this place, huh? Didn’t I tell you it was huge?”

“Yeah…but I’m beginning to see why it’s listed so cheaply. It doesn’t exactly look habitable, does it?”

“So it’s a fixer-upper,” Alya admitted with a careless shrug. “Come on, try thinking outside the box—this bay window here is _perfect_ for a display window! And you could put the name of the boutique right above the door there…what _are_ you going to name it, anyway? Have you figured that out yet?”

“First I need a place,” Marinette said firmly, eyeing the decrepit building up and down with a critical eye. “Then, I can have a name.”

“Well I personally don’t think you need to look any further,” Alya insisted, throwing her arms out as she gestured to the building. “With some fresh paint and a _really_ thorough scrub, you could totally have yourself an amazing boutique!”

Marinette still had her doubts—the place looked like it had been involved in more than a few fires, and though she was only looking at it from the outside, what she could see of the floor suggested that one falsely placed step would create a hazardous hole of rotting wood underfoot. While Alya was clearly in love with the place, Marinette was having a hard time seeing the charm that had swept her best friend away…

“I really think I could do better,” she said, and Alya huffed at her, fixing her with an indulgent look.

“All right, _Mlle_. Fashion Designer, tell me—where do _you_ want your boutique to be?”

Ah, well, that was the million euro question, wasn’t it? She and Alya had been spending the past two days looking for potential boutique locations, but considering their limited free time—senior finals were fast approaching—finding someplace suitable had been slow-going. Not to mention that Marinette was already spreading herself pretty thin, in between her job, school, Ladybug patrols, and spending time worrying about the persisting absence of her boyfriend…

Marinette gave a wide yawn and winced when Alya whirled on her.

“That’s the fifth yawn in the last two minutes,” she reported, adjusting her glasses as she frowned at Marinette, in full Mom Friend mode. “What time did you go to bed last night?”

“Not too late,” Marinette said defensively. “I’ve just been…having a _weird_ dream lately…”

Alya raised an eyebrow, folding her arms.

“Define ‘weird’.”

Marinette frowned. How to explain…

“…It’s this weird song I keep dreaming about,” she said slowly, gripping her chin in thought. “It’s not familiar, and I forget the words as soon as I try to remember after I wake up…but it sounds so…ominous…”

Alya tilted her head to the side.

“Hmm…do you remember the melody?”

“Yeah.” Marinette hummed a couple bars of the strange melody. “I have no idea where it came from, if I heard it on the radio once or something…what?”

Alya had a strange look on her face.

“That’s weird,” she said, running a hand through her hair as she glanced off to the side, frowning. “I’ve heard that song before. Recently, too.”

“Really?” Marinette asked, blinking in surprise. “Where did you hear it?”

“Hmm,” Alya hummed, closing her eyes as her face screwed up in concentration. “…I think…I was at a café…I was taking a break from studying…and I think I heard someone nearby humming it…”

This only served to confuse Marinette more.

“Is it a song that’s popular on the radio right now?”

Alya opened her eyes, still frowning.

“I don’t think so,” she said, and Marinette watched as she plucked idly at a fine chain around her neck. “But hell, it’s been so long since I’ve actually listened to the radio that I could be wrong…”

Marinette hummed, distracted by the sight of the chain around Alya’s neck; it was tucked into her shirt, so that whatever was on the end of it couldn’t be seen. How curious.

“Alya,” Marinette began, tearing her gaze from the chain to focus on her friend’s face, “when did you start wearing a necklace?”

While Marinette knew that Alya didn’t necessarily dislike jewelry, she also knew that Alya didn’t really give jewelry that much thought, either. So it was rare to see her wearing anything other than her engagement ring…what was so special about that necklace that it was made an exception to the rule as well? A present from Nino maybe? Had they made up somehow while Marinette wasn’t paying attention?

Alya blinked, startled as she glanced down, as if she just registered that the necklace was there. The way she abruptly dropped her hand from the chain made Marinette stare at her in surprise. What? What was the big deal? It was only a necklace…

And yet…there was now a certain shiftiness to Alya’s expression that Marinette didn’t _quite_ understand…but was immediately suspicious of nonetheless.

“Alya, what—?”

“Oh, look who it is!”

Marinette jumped when a sudden arm slung its way around her body; she checked her immediate reaction—which was grabbing the arm and tossing the would-be attacker over her shoulder—when she recognized the laughing voice in her ear.

“Hello, Mari-doll,” Desiree greeted, looking as pleased as ever to see Marinette. She shifted back with a grin, her dark eyes sparking with delight when she took note of Alya. “And Mari-doll’s friend! I’m so sorry, sweetheart, but I don’t quite remember your name…”

“I’m Alya,” Alya introduced herself, looking strangely relieved as she shook Desiree’s hand. “Nice to see you again.”

“Likewise.” Desiree surveyed the area, a curious look crossing her features as she took note of the building in front of her. “Oh…what on earth are you two doing in front of this old thing?”

“Didn’t you hear?” Alya asked, grinning as she slung an arm over Marinette next, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “Mari-doll’s trying to open up her very own boutique.”

“Really?!” Desiree squawked, hands flying to her cheeks as she gawked at Marinette in surprise. “Marinette, why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Uh,” Marinette muttered, highly embarrassed by all the attention, “it was kind of, um, a recent decision…and we’ve been so busy preparing for finals—”

“Oh, right.” Desiree’s brows puckered at the mention of finals. “I’ll have to stock up on wine when it’s time to grade those.”

Alya snickered, and Desiree smiled wryly at her.

“Believe me, as much as you students hate taking finals, us professors suffer right along with you.” Desiree sighed, patting Marinette’s shoulder. “At least I won’t have to worry about my senior class—the hard part’s over for you all now, isn’t it?”

“Thank god,” Marinette huffed, and Desiree laughed.

“Oh! And I saw it!” She exclaimed excitedly, taking Marinette’s hands and squeezing them. “Your impromptu fashion show! Inspired! You’re absolutely _brilliant_ , Marinette!”

Ah, the high praise that was lavished on Desiree’s favorites…very embarrassing. Marinette could feel her ears turning red at all the compliments.

“I-it wasn’t my idea, actually…” She mumbled, glancing at Alya, who shrugged, as if it didn’t much matter to her whether or not she got credit for suggesting the idea in the first place.

Desiree turned to her nonetheless.

“Oh, were you the genius behind the show at Plaza Pompidou?”

For some reason, Alya took her time answering; she was staring at Desiree for some reason Marinette couldn’t fathom…unless she was simply admiring the fashion professor’s looks, as she was prone to do when out of earshot of said fashion professor.

“…I guess,” Alya replied, the humble answer surprising Marinette. “It wasn’t a big deal, though; just helping a friend out of a jam, you know. Amanda was lovely in the Peacock dress, don’t you think?”

“Yes I do,” Desiree agreed, her smile fond as she thought of her girlfriend. “I was…a bit surprised to find out she was part of AVA, though…”

Marinette bit her lip. Uh-oh…had they inadvertently gotten Amanda in trouble with Desiree? Come to think of it, Amanda had been a touch reluctant to take such an active role in the fashion show…but Marinette had just assumed it was initial stage fright, for she had agreed in the end…

“Well, I think they all did an excellent job,” Alya said, her assertion firm as her hands rested on her hips. “We could all do with putting a little more faith in the citizens of Paris…especially the victims targeted by bigotry.” She smiled sweetly; a warning sign. “Don’t you think so, too, Desiree?”

“Oh, of course,” Desiree agreed…though—and Marinette was probably imagining it, but…there seemed to be something that was…rather forced, in her smile…hmm…

Oblivious to Marinette’s scrutinizing gaze, Desiree glanced down at her watch and gave a squeak of surprise.

“Oh! Speaking of my girlfriend, I’m late for a date!” She leaned in, kissing Marinette’s cheek, making her blush. “Good luck with the boutique, hun! I’ll be cheering you on in my own way…not that you probably need it, with someone as reliable as Alya in your corner!”

“Thanks,” Alya called after Desiree as she dashed away, flicking her fingers in farewell behind her. As they watched her go, Marinette noticed the way Alya’s lips pursed.

“What?” She wanted to know. Alya said nothing at first; her hazel eyes switched to Marinette, speculation in her gaze.

“…Nothing,” she ultimately decided, running a hand through her hair as she frowned. “I just realized: it was Desiree who was humming that song. I was in the café Amanda works in, and she was there, humming nearby."

Marinette tilted her head curiously.

"The song I've been dreaming about?" How curious...

"Yeah...maybe it's a popular song on the radio after all..." Alya frowned in the direction Desiree had disappeared in. "…Something’s bothering me.”

“About Desiree?”

“Yeah.” Alya tilted her head to the side, her frown growing more pronounced. “I don’t think she likes me.”

Marinette blinked at her best friend in surprise. Desiree, not like her?

“Why would you think that?” She asked, giving the dilapidated building before them one last glance of distaste before she decided it was time to move on, waving Alya behind her as she walked. Alya fell into step beside her, still wearing that frown of hers that indicated she was concentrating very hard on something.

“Just the way she talked to me, I guess.”

…Okay, that didn’t clear up anything at all.

“But she was so nice to you,” Marinette pointed out, and Alya gave a sigh, the sound frustrated.

“Well, yeah, it _seemed_ that way…” She glanced over at Marinette, looking troubled. “But do you ever get the feeling that, y’know, when someone’s talking to you…like, they might be smiling on the outside…but you can almost see their teeth clenched together, like they’re just putting on an act, and it’s _killing_ them to actually be civil to you?”

…Okay, Marinette could sort of see what Alya was talking about: Nathanael had encouraged Chloé to play nice during the collaborative fashion show, but it was still clear that she and Marinette would never be bosom buddies. _Tragédie_.

“…You got that from Desiree…?” She asked, still confused on this point. Alya gave a shrug.

“It might’ve been just me,” she allowed, her attitude suddenly lofty. “It could’ve been that she was worried about something else—she kept spinning that ring on her finger, so it might’ve had nothing to do with me, really—”

“Ring?” Marinette interrupted, staring at Alya in confusion. “What are you talking about? Desiree doesn’t wear a ring.”

The crosswalk before them turned red and they paused, Alya turning to stare at Marinette.

“…Are you kidding?” She asked, frowning when Marinette only continued to look nonplussed. “Girl, she _always_ wears a ring. It’s on her left middle finger, silver? In the shape of an ouroboros?”

“A what?”

“You know: a snake eating its own tail.”

Marinette stared at Alya. There was a quiet, unpleasant creeping in the pit of her stomach, and her mouth was suddenly dry.

A snake…?

“…Desiree doesn’t wear a ring like that,” Marinette said, her voice sounding hollow and strange to her own ears. Alya raised her eyebrows so high they disappeared into her hairline.

“Marinette, she was wearing it just now. Remember, I said she was spinning it?” She folded her arms over her chest. “How did you not see it?”

How did she not see it…?

Because it wasn’t _there._ Desiree didn’t wear a ring like that, and Marinette didn’t know what kind of game Alya was playing, but it wasn’t funny—

A sudden, much different voice intruded upon her thoughts, unwanted, but making its presence known all the same:

_“You shouldn’t trust that woman.”_

Marinette shook her head, ridding herself of Felix’s hated voice.

No. He was _not_ about to get his way and make her doubt someone she cared about like this. She didn’t know what his endgame was, but Marinette would be _damned_ if she let anything he said get to her. She _still_ didn’t know what his problem was with Desiree, but it had to be an issue all his own, right?

There was no way Desiree was guilty of _anything,_ right?

…Right…?

“Marinette?” Hands slid over her shoulders, and she felt herself shake. Blinking, she suddenly found Alya in front of her, hazel gaze filled with concern. “Are you okay? You’re really pale…what’s wrong? Do you feel sick?”

Marinette swallowed. She _did_ kind of feel like she was about to throw up…but she stubbornly suppressed the urge. There was no way she was getting upset over this; that would mean Felix won. It was best to just ignore the issue altogether…

…But…

“…Alya, can we call off the search for today?” Marinette requested, biting her lip. “There’s…something I forgot I have to do…”

Though Alya still looked concerned, she ultimately agreed, and they walked towards the metro in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. In the quiet, Marinette made herself recognize something that was very hard to acknowledge:

There was too much she was running from right now: her head was so full of secrets and fears that it was liable to explode at the slightest bit of pressure. This had to stop. There were things that needed to be addressed, so it was time for her to quit dancing around the issues and make her peace with them already.

The Desiree thing she shoved out of her mind, because no matter what Felix said, it was not an issue worth considering…though Alya’s words were a little harder to dismiss…

No, _no,_ Marinette would not give the matter anymore of her attention. Instead, she would use said attention more constructively.

Starting with her boyfriend/partner, because Marinette feared that if she kept him dangling for too long, he would not be either of those things for very much longer.

 

* * *

 

_Marinette (4:15 PM): Hey._

_Marinette (4:15 PM): So, I know you’re busy…_

_Marinette (4:16 PM): But I really need to talk to you._

_Marinette (4:16 PM): Can we meet up for breakfast on Saturday?_

_Marinette (4:18 PM): Please?_

**Adrien (4:23 PM): Okay.**

_Marinette (4:25 PM): Thank you. Meet me at my parents’ bakery; I’ll have your favorite waiting for you. <3_

**Adrien (4:26 PM): Sounds great. See you then.**

 

* * *

This was stupid.

Marinette didn’t know what she was doing, but a feeling in the pit of her stomach warned her that she would dread it for days to come.

It had started out innocently enough—it was a rare Friday night where she had nothing to do. So, sick of the mess that her studio/bedroom had become, Marinette had gone on a cleaning purge, sorting through everything that had cluttered her room, either putting things in their proper places or tossing them unceremoniously into a bulging trash bag. God, _how_ had she acquired so much _junk?!_ How had she allowed herself to live like this for so long??

After she had cleaned out Tikki’s stash of empty cookie boxes, Marinette had moved on to her disaster of a desk surface, becoming a little more choosy about what she threw away, for there were important documents and sketches of new outfits on her desk that needed to be preserved, and she wouldn’t much like dumpster diving after anything important she had accidentally tossed.

It was after she had placed a clean sketchbook onto the shelf above her desk that Marinette had found it: an old picture she had forgotten about, featuring her and Desiree, when she had first gotten the job offer for _Trés Bien_ Boutique. Oh, how full of dreams she had been back then…

As she smiled, reflecting on fond memories that had soured all too quickly, it had taken some time for Marinette to register a tiny, minute detail she had never seen before:

The glint of silver on Desiree’s left middle finger.

Marinette had paused, staring at the photo. She must have glanced at this picture dozens of times, but never before had she seen that glint of silver…

But then…why was it showing up _now?_

Half convinced that it was just a trick of the light, or a photography error, Marinette had fled to her computer, desperate to prove to herself that she was just seeing things, that maybe she was crazy due to overwork. Her trembling fingers had accessed IFA’s website, her mouse clicking on the staff page, and then the correct department…

And now she just sat there, staring at what her mind simply refused to accept, but what her eyes could clearly see…

The silver ring glinting on Desiree’s left middle finger as she posed with her hand on her chin, a sultry smirk aimed at the camera.

Enhancing the photo told Marinette what she already knew: the ring was indeed the shape of a snake with ruby eyes biting its own tail. An ouroboros, Alya had called it.

So Alya hadn’t been mistaken—Desiree seemed to always wear this silver ring, and somehow, Marinette had never noticed it before.

…So what did this mean?

“Marinette?”

“One second, Tikki,” Marinette requested, her teeth biting into her bottom lip as she stared at the inexplicable ouroboros ring circling her fashion professor’s finger. It didn’t necessarily mean anything that the ring was shaped into a snake…but why hadn’t Marinette noticed the ring until now? It didn’t make any sense…unless…

Feeling her heart pound despite the fact that she was just sitting down, Marinette hesitantly typed Desiree’s name into the search engine of her web browser. The first few pages of hits were things having to do with IFA, links Marinette scrolled past immediately; she doubted they would be helpful.

On the twelfth page of hits, Marinette lost patience. Clearly, this was a fool’s errand she was on—if there was anything to find about Desiree, then surely she would have found it by now, wouldn’t she have? The lack of anything suspicious linked to her beloved professor’s name just proved to Marinette what she already knew—there was nothing suspect about Desiree at all. She had let one minor detail she had failed to notice before get to her, and now she was sitting here feeling stupid. Felix would undoubtedly be laughing at her right now…if he even knew what a laugh _was…_

Marinette was about to shut down her browser in disgust, when a horribly familiar name caught her attention: _Hawk Moth._

She stared, reading the full name of the link, which appeared to be a news article, dated…seven years ago?

“ _The Identity of Hawk Moth: A Cover Up? American reporter Daniel Trace…_ ”

Daniel Trace…?

“Marinette,” Tikki called again, but Marinette barely heard her over her heart pounding in her ears; she stalled her kwami once again and clicked on the link, fingers twitching as the browser took its sweet time loading the article for her to read:

“ _Just a week after Gabriel Agreste (alias Hawk Moth) had his fatal fall, revealing his true identity to all of France at last, new evidence has come to light that his identity had been discovered much sooner: when police searched his home, they discovered a series of what appeared to be journal logs written by Daniel Trace, forty-seven year old American reporter, who was found dead in his hotel room just a month prior, his death ruled a suicide due to overdose. In these journals, details of Gabriel Agreste’s whereabouts were carefully catalogued, matching his absences from notable functions to akuma attacks that occurred in Paris. Many of the entries were incomplete; sections were blacked out, making them illegible, though it is unclear whether this was Trace’s doing, or Agreste’s._ ”

There was a picture included of some such log: cramped handwriting scratched into the page, the ink smudging in some places where the writers seemed to be in a hurry, capturing every one of Gabriel Agreste’s movements into a journal entry. And indeed, there were sections blacked out; whatever information they had contained could not be inferred from the surrounding context clues, so that information was lost for good. Still, Marinette squinted, as if she could just make out the hidden words from beyond the spoils of black ink…but no such luck. She might be Miraculous, but not even she could discern meaning from such chaos. So she moved on, eager to know the rest of the story.

“ _A search of Agreste’s check book also indicates that he had been making monthly payments for nearly a year to an entity simply known as ‘D. T.’, which is damning evidence suggesting that Agreste may have been bribing Trace to keep his logs out of the public’s eye, to preserve Agreste’s image. Trace’s family could not be reached for comment on this matter._ ”

Marinette made the mistake of looking at the comments section under the article: it was full of angry Parisians, incensed that ‘some greedy American hack’ had chosen money over his integrity as a journalist, that he should’ve done the right thing and reported Gabriel Agreste for what he was, and (Marinette’s stomach turned over) how some of them were _glad_ that he was dead, because he had clearly been a waste of space if all he cared about was money. A hand covered her mouth unconsciously, and tears sprang to her eyes.

…If Daniel Trace was who Marinette thought he was…then how must it have felt, coming to the city who readily condemned someone you loved for not exposing the most powerful supervillain in all of Paris…?

Marinette couldn’t understand Daniel Trace’s reasons for taking the money in exchange for his silence…but surely he hadn’t deserved to _die_ for it…

“Marinette!”

“What?!” Marinette burst out, startled, because Tikki had shouted directly in her ear this time; she nearly fell out of her desk chair, righting herself at the last minute as she massaged her ear and glared at her kwami. “What do you want, Tikki? I’m in the middle of—”

Tikki flew forward, pressing her tiny hands to Marinette’s lips, halting her speech.

“Shh,” she insisted as she floated back, Marinette staring at her in bewilderment. “Listen…”

Marinette paused, cocking her head to the side. At first, she didn’t know what she was supposed to be listening for—her balcony doors were open, so she could only make out the sound of the breeze filtering in, cooling her room. She opened her mouth to ask Tikki what she was supposed to be hearing—

“ _Ladybug, Ladybug, answer my call. Paris is on fire; all are slaves to my thrall. Come; do not stall, or I will find you. I’ll be the Reaper who hunts for you…_ ”

Chilling fingers tip-toed down Marinette’s spine as she stared at Tikki, her shock and horror reflected in her kwami’s grim eyes.

That song…where was it coming from?!

Marinette jumped up from her desk and went to her balcony doors, throwing them open wider as she stepped out into the mild Parisian night.

There were people everywhere—they all were trudging forward through the street, their slow, uneven shambling resembling zombies. All their faces were blank, but all their mouths were moving, each singing the same chilling lyrics Marinette had just heard.

The melody that had been haunting her all week had somehow escaped from her dreams and threaded itself into a tapestry of horror that had been woven into her reality.

Marinette swallowed as the song continued—in _English_ , no less. Another piece of evidence, circumstantial, but when combined with Alya's recollection from earlier that week, still attention-grabbing. But she couldn’t focus on it right now.

Dashing back into her room, Marinette forced herself to breathe through the panic that had seized her chest, still wide-eyed as she stared at Tikki.

“It’s Shade,” she said, the words trembling along with her body. Tikki gave a nod, her expression the most serious Marinette had ever seen it.

“She’s calling for you.”

Another shiver wracked through Marinette’s body.

“What do I do…?”

Tikki’s expression grew helpless. It was surreal to see such a look on such a normally positive entity.

“…I don’t think there’s anything else you _can_ do, Marinette,” she admitted, resting her tiny hands on Marinette’s clenched ones that she held in front of her face, as if wanting to defend herself from an invisible assailant. “The citizens are in trouble—somehow, she has them all in a strange trance. And Ladybug has to stop her.”

Right. Ladybug had to stop her. This was Ladybug’s responsibility…

Sandpaper coated Marinette’s tongue, but she swallowed around it, willing herself to be brave. She could do this…she was _Ladybug,_ after all. There was nothing she couldn’t do, once she set her mind to it.

One last deep breath…in and out…

Okay. She was ready.

“Tikki: transform me!”

The power of Miraculous was invoked, and Marinette left her civilian identity behind. Ladybug darted out onto the balcony once more and swung her way onto the rooftop, watching the citizens of Paris shamble aimlessly about…

…No, not aimlessly. They were all heading in one direction…

Ladybug followed this direction, occasionally calling from a rooftop for the entranced citizens to snap out of it. But no matter what she said, the people still followed the chilling siren call of Paris’ most dangerous supervillain since Hawk Moth, and Ladybug could do nothing else but obey the call as well, though knots twisted in her gut at the thought of what was waiting for her once the piper ceased her hypnotic melody…

Along the way, Ladybug spotted a familiar face. She dropped down onto the rooftop Chat Noir was crouched upon, his cat ears flat against his head as he watched the progression of hypnotized Parisians, all heading in the same direction.

“Hey,” he greeted her, straightening up to stand beside her. Dimly, Ladybug recognized that this was the first time she had seen her boyfriend/partner in days…but that was an issue for another time.

“You heard it, too?” She asked him, eyes searching his face, finding the same spooked feeling that rose goosebumps on her skin in Chat Noir’s eyes. His pupils contracted.

“Hard to miss when there’re a bunch of people wailing your name right outside your window,” he pointed out, casting a glance at the Parisian-filled streets. “Seems our snake is also a charmer. How ironic.”

“Where do you think they’re going?” Ladybug asked, biting her lip as she watched the slow progression of citizens follow the path to wherever the song was originating from.

“I have a hunch…” Chat Noir’s tone was dry. “But we’ll never find out for sure unless we follow them, will we?”

“Right…” Some of her misgivings must have shown up on her face, for Chat reached up, a clawed hand gripping her shoulder. She glanced up at him, and he offered her a small, non-Chat like smile.

“It’s gonna be all right,” he promised, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “I’ve got your back if you’ve got mine.”

Ladybug smiled, her relief strong at such words, no matter how simple they were.

“Always,” she promised, and Chat gave a nod.

“Good. Besides,” he continued, palming his baton in preparation, “if anything, Shell always comes through for us, even if it’s sometimes at the last minute.”

Oh, right…Shell…

“Chat,” Ladybug halted him with a hand to his shoulder, making him pause before he could leap to the next rooftop, “Shell…he won’t be coming. It’s just you and me tonight.”

Chat blinked at this; naturally, it was news to him.

“Why not?”

Ladybug opened her mouth to explain…but then she shut it, her misgivings getting the better of her. After all, did she _really_ want to tell her boyfriend/partner that his best friend was also the superhero he’d been bickering with ever since he returned to Team Miraculous, right as they were about to confront the big, bad villain that had been complicating their lives for the past few months? No, Ladybug thought not. Best to keep their heads in the game right now.

“I’ll explain later,” she said instead. Chat’s eyes narrowed.

“Right,” he huffed, turning so that he was eyeing her from his peripheral vision. “Everything’s always ‘later’ with you, isn’t it?”

Ladybug flinched. She _hated_ that he had a point, hated the disappointment she could see in his gaze before he flung himself off the roof, scrambling on all fours to the next rooftop, and the next, as if he wanted to outrun her. Biting into her lip, Ladybug followed him as they chased the source of the chilling lullaby all the way to the heart of Paris (figuratively speaking).

The Eiffel Tower blazed before them, a beacon in the night sky…or it usually was, anyway.

Tonight, it was nearly dead: all but a few lights were off, as if the symbol of Paris itself had been drained of power. The darkness didn’t stop the Parisians gathering in the square in front of _Quai Branley,_ the eerie song they sang louder now, for there were more people concentrated in this one area. Ladybug and Chat Noir planted themselves in the middle of _Quai Branley_ , Ladybug’s mouth coming open in horror as she saw the state her beloved landmark was in. Who had allowed this?!

Abruptly, all at once, the song stopped. Ladybug froze as the citizens all turned as one to where she and Chat Noir were standing, as if they had been expecting them. And there, near the top of the Tower, defiling the spot where she, Chat, and Shell normally gathered after a patrol with her mere presence…was Shade.

“ _Ladybug. Chat Noir. So glad you could join us,_ ” she said, her hissing voice carrying all the way to the heroes, despite the distance between them. “ _I am pleased to see that you knew better than to hide from me…though I wish I could say the same for your friend with the shell. Must I track him down as well before we begin…?_ ”

“You can try,” Ladybug challenged her, folding her arms tightly to keep herself from shaking. “But I doubt your power can reach through all of France.”

“ _…I see. So he is not currently in Paris,_ ” Shade deduced, her dark form shimmering in what little light she permitted the Eiffel Tower to give off. “ _Very well. It matters not; he will simply have to be dealt with at a later date._ ”

“And how exactly _are_ you planning on ‘dealing with us’?” Chat Noir drawled, letting his hands hang over his baton, which rested across his broad shoulders. “Gonna re-enact Night of the Living Dead with your choir army here?”

“ _Of course not,_ ” said Shade, surprising Ladybug. “ _They have nothing to do with this fight._ ”

“Oh, that’s rich, considering you’ve been _akumatizing_ people this whole time!” Ladybug spat; though she was grateful Shade didn’t seem about to use helpless citizens against the heroes, the _nerve_ she dared to have, acting like she hadn’t been causing trouble using Parisian citizens! Ladybug would have laughed bitterly if she wasn’t so wound up.

The feeling worsened when Shade suddenly disappeared…only to reform herself in the air, just meters from Ladybug and Chat Noir. Ladybug hated herself for jumping in surprise, and Chat side-stepped, angling his body in front of her as he glared up at Shade. This made Ladybug’s heart hurt—still so ready to defend her, despite the fact that he had to be beyond frustrated with her at this point…

Shade tilted her head, as if she was considering the heroes.

“ _…Ladybug,_ ” she whispered, turning to her, her eyes as bright and eerie as ever. “ _Despite the…issues…we may have had in the past…I am willing to let you fly away from this battle._ ”

Ladybug stared up at the supervillain, waiting for the punchline. When it didn’t come, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“You go through all the trouble of calling me here only to tell me to leave?”

“ _My ire towards you is only obligatory—we are two forces on opposite sides, so naturally, we must clash…_ ” Shade paused. “ _...But I will give you the chance to flee from punishment. If you leave now, I will not pursue you. Once my revenge is complete, you shall never hear from me again._ ” She waved a hand over herself, and the Butterfly Miraculous appeared once more. “ _I shall even deliver the Butterfly Miraculous to you afterwards._ ”

An offer too good to be true…just how stupid did Shade think Ladybug was?

“I notice you’re not including Chat Noir in this deal,” she said darkly, watching warily as Shade’s bright eyes narrowed.

“ _…No. The cat cannot prance free, for he is the object of my hatred._ ”

Of course he was. The whole city was happy to hold Chat’s previous trespasses against him; why not the supervillain, too?

Chat tensed, and now Ladybug moved in front of him, assuming a defensive stance.

“Well, too bad for you, Shade, but Chat and I are a team,” she asserted, glaring defiantly up at Shade. “If you mess with him, you’re messing with me.”

“ _…Unfortunate,_ ” Shade replied, the sound a hiss of cold disappointment. “ _I do not wish to spill your blood, Ladybug, but if this is how it must be—_ ”

“And what, exactly, am I supposed to be punished for?” Chat wanted to know, attempting to step in front of Ladybug again; she blocked his movement, and he shot her an annoyed look before his cat’s eyes narrowed up at Shade again. “Why all the hatred, when I don’t even know you?”

Abruptly, Shade’s face split into that eerie grin that had haunted Ladybug’s nightmares from the moment she first saw it.

“ _Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘the sins of the father will pass on to his children’?_ ”

Ladybug felt it when Chat tensed behind her, and she grit her teeth, her heart pounding double time.

So Shade _did_ know who Chat Noir was…

…Well, that simplified things a tad, didn’t it?

“Does that saying also apply to you, Shade?” She demanded, watching with some satisfaction (and a lot of hidden sadness) as Shade’s grin disappeared as quickly as it came.

“ _...I’m not sure I know what you could mean, Ladybug,_ ” she said quietly, an undercurrent of danger laced through her tone. It was clear—Ladybug had plucked a nerve.

“Really?” She persisted, once again blocking any attempt Chat made to get in front of her; she didn’t want to be shielded from this, she wanted to face it head on, and he _wasn’t_ about to stop her, damn it. “You really have nothing to add here, Shade? Nothing to _report_ on…?”

Shade hissed softly, the sound low, but furious.

“ _You’ve been a busy Bug,_ ” she acknowledged, and Ladybug grimly accepted the despair that came from this confirmation.

She had so admired her…

“What’s going on?” Chat demanded to know, sounding frustrated. Ladybug couldn’t blame him, but she also couldn’t focus on him—now that things were (sort of) out in the open, if there was even a chance Ladybug could finally reach Shade…any chance at all…

“You don’t have to do this,” she said quietly, her voice soft and pleading as she stared up at her enemy, her mentor…her friend… “I know you’re hurting. But things don’t have to be this way. It’s not too late—”

“ _Enough!_ ” Shade spat, and she physically backed away through the air, as if to discourage any further attempts to reach her, sharp teeth bared in anger. “ _You will_ not _sway me, hero! My path has been set for years, and I will not rest until all of Paris has paid! Starting with that damn cat you love so much!_ ”

Shade vanished in a swirl of darkness.

And then the citizens charged, war cries echoing through the air as they rushed the heroes, arms outstretched, their expressions twisted with rage and hate.

“She lied!” Ladybug cried, as she and Chat scrambled back to avoid the furious swipes of the Parisians attempting to capture them. Her first thought was to flee to _Pont d’léna_ and figure out the next step from there, but all too soon, they were surrounded by brainwashed citizens.

“Big surprise!” Chat bit out, clenching his baton defensively as he and Ladybug stood back to back, watching the citizens they worked so hard to protect turn on them like savages. “What the hell do we do? We can’t fight them, and we don’t have Shell’s force field to protect us!”

There was only one thing for it, then.

“We run!” Ladybug decided, whirling her yo-yo as the citizens closed in, raging and spitting, nearly foaming at the mouth. From her peripheral vision, she saw Chat throw her a stunned look.

“Run _where?_ The streets are filled—we have nowhere _to_ run!”

“Then we _fly!_ ” Ladybug cried; she slipped an arm around Chat and pulled him close before she sent out her yo-yo to cling to the nearest street light, pushing off from the ground and swinging away from the crowd that threatened to overtake her and Chat. She winced as they swung through a barricade of bodies intended to prevent their escape; flinched as she heard the grunts of pain. She wasn’t really trying to hurt anyone, but what else could she do with them mobbing her and Chat like this? She couldn’t very well let Chat and herself be _caught_ by them, because god knows what Shade might have ordered them to do, once they were trapped—

“We’ve gotta find a way to snap them out of it!” Chat grunted as Ladybug swung them around and around, refusing to stay in once place for too long, for the mob was relentless and _very_ fast.

“How?” Ladybug asked, gritting her teeth as she kept swinging, Chat’s added weight not helping matters, even if she was very strong. And the mob followed, the citizens completely under the thrall of Shade, just like her song had forewarned. Well, at least Paris wasn’t _literally_ on fire, though it might as well have been, with all the chaos occurring in the streets—

Chat Noir swore, and Ladybug looked back to ask him what the problem was—

And then she saw it: the blaze that started small, but yet somehow spread far too quickly. Before Ladybug knew it, a ring of fire surrounded the square, lapping at the trees and trapping her, Chat, and all of the hypnotized citizens within.

Ladybug muffled a cry of despair.

Shade _really_ wasn’t about to let them leave alive tonight, was she?!

“It’s not real,” she heard Chat muttering to himself as he clung to her back; he seemed to be trying to convince himself of his mutterings. “It’s not real…it can’t be…”

Real or not, it sure _felt_ like it—the air was humid and oppressive, and Ladybug felt like she was swimming through soup as she and Chat flew through the air, only landing long enough to cast her yo-yo out again, for the fire spread quickly, and consumed any spot she dared to dawdle in within seconds of her fleeing.

This situation was hopeless—she couldn’t very well fly around all night, for the fire would incinerate them all if she let it. But what could she do?

What was she supposed to do…?

“The tower,” Chat suddenly said, and Ladybug looked back at him, his eyes tight as he met her gaze. “Get to the tower, Ladybug. We’ll be safe up there—they can’t possibly climb _that_ high.”

Ladybug wasn’t sure about that, but there was absolutely no time to debate the issue; she sent her yo-yo out to cling to a beam of the Eiffel Tower, and let herself and Chat fly towards it, fleeing for the safety the symbol of Paris might provide them. As they landed, she cried out when Chat jumped down a beam, but he ignored her, a clawed hand raised.

“Cataclysm!”

His destructive power sliced through a lower beam of the Tower, and it fell, blockading the bottom and discouraging the mob from approaching any further. They still tried to climb when no more beams fell from the sky, surrounding the Tower, but Ladybug, inspired by Chat’s example, tossed her yo-yo into the air.

“Lucky Charm!”

As if the goddess of luck knew just how desperate the situation was, for once, the Lucky Charm produced something immediately useful: a huge net.

“Yes!” Ladybug cheered, letting herself zip down to toss the net onto the bulk of the horde, trapping them like mosquitos as they clumsily bumped into each other, attempting to find their way out of the net. That was one problem solved, Ladybug supposed, while she and Chat tried to find a way to help the citizens of Paris regain their minds—

“GAH!”

The shout made Ladybug’s head snap up, and her eyes widened as she spotted the large, black snake wind its way around her partner, its body slowly constricting, turning Chat’s face pale, almost blue—

“NO!” Ladybug cried, sending her yo-yo higher up the tower, not caring what it latched around as long as it meant that she could propel herself forward, into the skirmish—

She landed on the snake’s—Shade’s—back, wrapped both her arms around her throat and squeezed.

“Let GO!” She commanded, arching back and pulling with all her might—

Shade suddenly disappeared, her form crumbling into nothing. Without anything solid to hold onto, Ladybug found herself falling, shock coursing through her system and locking her body into place, thinking of nothing, not even the ready yo-yo still attached to her hand, for her surprise was still too great—

“LADYBUG!”

Suddenly, Chat was there. Ladybug watched, irrational, as her brain wondered why Chat Noir had flung himself through the sky when he had no wings to catch himself. His face was tense, wind rushing around him, and then, his arms were around her. Something silver flashed through the night, and Ladybug’s gaze was drawn to it as it embedded itself into the tower…

Chat’s baton.

Reacting automatically, Ladybug flung her yo-yo towards the baton. Her luck held; her yo-yo wrapped around the baton. The resulting whiplash was intense pain; Ladybug cried out as her right arm was yanked the wrong way, so forcefully that she thought it might pop out from its socket.

Chat hadn’t had a proper grip on her, so he slipped when her body was suddenly wrenched the other way; she grabbed at him, catching his hand just in time. Her right arm screamed in protest, but she did not let go of her yo-yo or her partner, her teeth clenched together from the strain. For a moment, they just hung there, suspended in the air, revolving slowly from side to side. Ladybug panted, watching Chat breathe, the motion heavy, as if his heart was racing just as fast as hers was. But they were okay. The situation wasn’t ideal, and they were in a bind, but nobody had fallen to their death…they were okay…

Chat Noir’s ring gave three chirps of warning, closely followed by Ladybug’s earrings.

She stared down at him as he looked back at her, his look of horror matching the roiling of her stomach exactly.

Their transformations were about to break.

And when that happened—

They suddenly bounced, the motion setting Ladybug’s arm on fire. Her head whipped around—

Shade was standing on the beam above where Chat Noir’s baton was lodged, her terrifying smile in place as she rested a foot made of shadows against his baton. She put pressure on the baton, and it squeaked, rubbing uncomfortably against the metal of the Eiffel Tower, tilting the wrong way. The wire of Ladybug’s yo-yo slipped, causing her and Chat to bounce again, wobbling dangerously.

Ladybug felt despair flood through her as she realized the horrifying truth: at this angle, she and Chat were too heavy for his baton and her yo-yo to hold them both, something Shade seemed smugly aware of, if the way she tapped the baton with her foot was a clue. As the baton jerked, coming loose, Ladybug’s earrings beeped again, the sound more urgent this time around. She glanced down at Chat Noir, her heart pounding so hard it threatened to burst from her chest.

They were trapped.

“ _What’s the matter, Ladybug?_ ” Shade drawled from above, sounding cruelly amused. “ _What happened to that abundance of luck you’re so famous for?_ ”

Ladybug bit her lip as she stared into Chat’s eyes, tears beginning to gather in hers.

They had no one but each other tonight, and even _that_ hadn’t been enough, for now they were here, suspended in limbo, about to de-transform, and without allies to come to their aid.

Luck couldn’t help them out of this. Not this time.

“ _And so the heroes of Paris, once believed to be indestructible, plummet to their untimely deaths from the Eiffel Tower._ ” Shade gave a dramatic sigh, and Ladybug grit her teeth in hatred, angry tears joining the ones of frustration and sadness now. “ _How utterly romantic. I am sure you two will leave behind_ such _pretty corpses…_ ”

Chat Noir’s ring chirped again, the noise insistent. Ladybug glanced down at the hand she held, muffling her whimper of hopelessness: the last paw pad on his ring was flashing, soon to disappear.

Chat seemed to know it, too—his eyes roved over Ladybug’s face, as if he was attempting to memorize her features…

His grip on her hand slackened.

“Chat, _no,_ ” Ladybug ground out through her clenched teeth. She knew what he was trying to do, and it only made her cling to him more, her hand shaking as it worked to keep hold of him, though she could already feel him slipping…

The smile Chat Noir gave her in that moment shattered her heart.

“Don’t look that way, My Lady,” he teased, even as she saw tears spring to his eyes as well, “you can always find another Chat Noir.”

Ladybug shook her head furiously, a desperate cry escaping her as she clung to his fingers with all her might, praying for a miracle, for something, _anything_ —

Something else was coming loose—

“Goodbye, Ladybug.”

His hand slipped from hers, and her hand clutched nothing but air.

Air…and Chat Noir’s ring.

Time seemed to slow down as Ladybug watched Adrien Agreste fall away from her, his blonde hair flying around him, tears falling upward as the wind rushed around him. There was something unbearably beautiful about the fall—graceful, like an angel who had been cast out of heaven. Or like Icarus, in the aftermath of his fatal attraction to the sun…

Time meant nothing, so Ladybug did not know how long she hung there, her mouth open in a silent scream as she watched the man she loved fall, the ground seeming to rush up to meet him, eager to break his fall in the most crushing of ways—

He had let her keep his ring. She could always find another Chat Noir, he had said.

But he was wrong.

If Adrien Agreste was not Chat Noir…

Then Ladybug did not want to be Ladybug anymore.

It was so easy to just let go—unconscious, even. Ladybug just let her hand fall away from the end of her yo-yo…and then she was falling too.

But while Adrien was graceful, like a feather or a leaf, she was a bullet: tucking her arms and legs in, making her body as straight as a rod, Ladybug shot forward, the wind whipping through her ears. She didn’t register anything that wasn’t the distance between her and Adrien, and Adrien and the ground. She didn’t bat an eye when the power of her earrings gave out, and she was Marinette again—the sound of Tikki’s terrified cry of her name far, far away—falling through the sky without a super suit to shield her from harm—not that it would matter at this height.

All she cared about was the green in Adrien’s eyes, the way they widened as he watched her draw closer, and the warmth of his body when she was finally near enough to embrace him, holding him tight in the last few seconds they had together, wishing that there was time for her to tell him she loved him, wishing they could talk about everything she should’ve said a long time ago—

Marinette squeezed her eyes shut so she wouldn’t know how much time they still had. If she didn’t see the end coming, then maybe, just maybe, she could suspend this moment in time and make it last forever—

Suddenly, she was weightless.

The abrupt change from falling to floating was jarring. Was this death? Had Marinette and Adrien hit the ground so hard that she hadn’t even felt it?

No…no, that couldn’t be it. She could still feel her heart beating, hammering so hard that it matched the pace of Adrien’s heart, beating just as strongly in his chest as hers was.

Marinette opened her eyes…

They were flying.

No, wait—that wasn’t it. They were _gliding_.

Marinette looked up and stared, open-mouthed at the figure in blue that seemed to support her and Adrien effortlessly, though she could feel that he only had a grip on the back of her shirt. His other arm held a metal bar, and connected to that bar was what looked like a hang-glider, made of the richest color of blue Marinette had ever seen, patterned with red and black circles as well.

Her knees suddenly bumped something hard, and she abruptly realized she and Adrien were on the ground. She clung to him, still staring at the stranger in blue as he stood before them, his motions calm even as the hypnotized mob began to close in on them, free of Ladybug’s net now that her transformation was undone; he handled his hang-glider as it crimped, folding like a fan, and he hooked it into the back of his belt, where it hung luxuriously…

Like a peacock’s tail.

There was a sudden, sharp cry, and Marinette winced, her free hand clapping over her ear as she pressed her head into Adrien’s chest. The figure in blue’s back was arched; the cry seemed to be coming from _him._ The mob that surrounded them clamped hands over their ears as well, their expressions pained until the cry died down…

Light returned to the Eiffel Tower, and it shone as brilliantly as it was meant to. Shade hissed and fled from the light, and this time, she did not reappear.

“…Huh?” Said one of the Parisian citizens near Marinette, looking around in bewilderment as she blinked clear, surprised eyes. “Wh-what was I…?”

“What am I doing here?” Another man questioned, the confusion echoing through every single person gathered in the square. As they sort of drifted away, glancing around in a dazed fashion and taking no notice of the figure in blue, Marinette’s astonishment was only interrupted by the ball of red and black whizzing into her face.

“Marinette!” Tikki cried, and Marinette was stunned to find her kwami in _tears_ as she clung to Marinette’s cheek. “I was so worried!!”

“It’s okay, Tikki,” Marinette muttered to her kwami. Wary of the confused citizens around them, she cupped her free hand around Tikki, scooping the poor creature into her palm and smiling down at her, rubbing the tears away from Tikki’s face with her thumb. “I’m all right. We made it.”

The heartwarming moment between kwami and Chosen was broken when Adrien sneezed.

This seemed to bring them to the attention of the figure in blue. He turned slightly towards them so that only his profile was visible, a cool, blue gaze surveying them from beneath a stylish blue mask, a miniature version of one of his feathers attached to a blue, Robin Hood-esque hat that was perched atop pale blonde hair…

Marinette knew him immediately.

“Pavone,” she whispered.

Pavone turned to face them, and Marinette took in more details of his appearance—the regal cut of his super suit, a black vest overlaying a dark blue, dressy shirt, with a burgundy cravat tied at the base of his throat, an extravagant brooch pinned to it, in the shape of a peacock; a black, heavy duty-looking belt that Marinette knew was meant to keep his hang-glider in place when he wasn’t using it; a dark blue cape fastened around his shoulders, short enough to allow easy access to his hang-glider when he needed it; dark blue pants semi-obscured by black, knee-high boots. The aura about him and the way he held himself suggested that he had just returned from swordplay, and was on his way to a war room somewhere to talk tactics for conquering a neighboring kingdom.

Marinette let go of Adrien, tucked Tikki into her pocket for the time being, and slowly stood, wobbling just slightly as she got to her feet, her knees not quite yet recovered from the shock of a deadly fall. Pavone regarded her silently, his hands clasped behind his back as Marinette eyed him up and down. She waited for him to say something…but he seemed quite content with the silence. So she attempted to break the ice first.

“…You saved us,” she said, unsure of how to begin, other than stating the obvious first.

Pavone inclined his head.

“…You appeared to require my assistance,” he said formally, speaking with a low, assured voice that further added to his regal look. Marinette tilted her head as she stared at him, frowning slightly. Something about that gaze of his was familiar…

“You saved me while I was battling Trinket, too,” she recalled, glancing down, where his hang-glider of feathers was situated. “I still have that feather you left behind.”

Pavone blinked. She seemed to have surprised him…but she couldn’t be sure, since his expression gave nothing else away.

“AH-CHOO!”

Jumping at the explosive sound, Marinette turned to watch Adrien get to his feet, looking rueful as he sniffed and rubbed at his nose. Pavone glanced at him…and then turned his back, beginning his retreat.

“Wait!” Marinette called after him, taking a step after him. He consented to pause, peering at them from his peripheral vision once again.

“You are safe. My presence here is no longer needed,” he said quietly, turning to face forward again.

“What, so—sniff—just like that?” Adrien inquired, sounding as if he was speaking through a bad head cold. “You’re just gonna leave?”

Pavone turned towards them again, and Marinette watched as his eyes widened slightly…as if he would be raising his eyebrows if they could see them under his mask...

“…If you are concerned that your identities have been compromised,” he began slowly, “you needn’t worry. Your secrets are safe with me, and no one else here will remember this night.” He turned to stare at the Eiffel Tower, a corner of his mouth pulled down. “…There is something else you should know: that figure on the tower was not Shade.”

Marinette stared at him.

“What? Not—what are you—”

“I mean to say,” Pavone butted in, cutting through her confused babble as he turned to regard her and Adrien with a serious look, “that Shade did not appear in body. The ‘Shade’ you have been experiencing has been nothing but illusion—smoke and mirrors, if you will.”

Through her shock, a tiny detail came back to Marinette’s hazy brain: as soon as she grabbed Shade to make her stop strangling Chat Noir, her form had crumbled, much like the false akumas did when she tried to purify them…

Adrien swore around another sneeze.

“Well, that’s just great,” he grumbled bitterly. “She knows who _we_ are, but we don’t have a damn clue who _she_ is.”

Pavone’s gaze cut to Marinette, and she blinked at him, surprised at how… _knowing_ his eyes were.

“…I believe the answers may be closer than you think,” he said simply, still staring at Marinette, who felt her mouth come open with a pop.

How did he know…?

There was a chime, and Pavone glanced down as two of the tail feathers of his peacock brooch went dim. Abruptly, Marinette realized that she was not just looking at his brooch—she was looking at Pavone’s Miraculous.

“I will leave you now,” he said as he glanced up at Marinette and Adrien, unhooking and extending his hang-glider. “You two should retreat to somewhere safe for the night. I do not think Shade will attempt to draw you out again…but I would not test Fate either, if I were you.”

Marinette watched, astonished, as Pavone’s feet left the ground the minute his gloved hands clutched the bar—it seemed like he could fly (er, glide) from wherever he pleased, as long as he had the aid of his hang-glider. Marinette found herself envious over such effortless flying.

“Pavone,” she called after him, waiting until he consented to meet her eyes before she smiled at him. “…Thank you.”

Again, he blinked. Marinette wondered at that gesture; it seemed like he was incapable of expressing himself any other way…hmm…

Pavone said nothing; he merely nodded in acknowledgment of her thanks. At Adrien’s next sneeze, he was speeding away, gliding off gracefully into the night.

Marinette watched him disappear, stared after him for as long as she dared…and then, as if it suddenly struck her that they were alone within the dissipating crowd of confused citizens…she turned to face Adrien.

He was sniffling into a black handkerchief Marinette had never seen before—it must be new. Idly, she wondered what happened to the old one…but then she got distracted by the look on his face as he lowered the handkerchief, staring at her. There was a quiet marveling to his gaze that, despite herself, amused Marinette. Though they both knew—and Marinette suspected that they had both had their suspicions long before the subject was broached—she also knew that knowing something to be true and seeing it with your own eyes were two very different things.

Something hard was pressed into her hand. Blinking, Marinette lifted her hand and unclenched it, registering with some surprise that she still held Chat Noir’s ring. It was deactivated, but it was still familiar—she saw this same ring every time she was with Adrien. For as long as she had known him, it had never left his finger.

Until tonight, when he had forsaken it to save her.

Funny how such a little thing had caused so many issues in her life…

Marinette’s eyes returned to Adrien, watching as apprehension bloomed in his expression as he glanced at the ring she held. Mutely, she held it out to him, keeping his gaze as he slowly reached forward, reclaiming what was his.

The moment he put the ring back on, a black, cat-like creature appeared right before Marinette’s eyes.

And it was _furious_.

“Are you _completely moronic?!_ ” It hissed, startling Marinette back a step as it flew into Adrien’s face, hackles raised. “What the hell were you _thinking,_ pulling a stunt like that?! If you ever do that again, Adrien, _I swear on every single one of my millennium of lives—_ ”

“Plagg, shh,” Adrien hushed his kwami, shielding him from view with his hands, from the curious eyes of a pair of Parisians that had looked around at the noise. Plagg bared his teeth at them from over Adrien’s fingers.

“Buzz buzz!” He hissed menacingly, and Marinette had to clamp a hand over her mouth to stifle the hysteric giggles she wanted to release. Who in their right mind would see this creature—Plagg—and mistake him for a bug?

Before any more trouble could be stirred up, yet another superhero distraction appeared.

“Look! It’s Emerald Shell!” An excited kid cried as said turtle-themed superhero zoomed into the area on his hover board, his head snapping from side to side, as if he was looking for something. As Marinette stared at him in surprise, he spotted her a second later, and made his descent among the few citizens still present in the square.

“Keep it moving, nothing to see here,” he assured them, waving stragglers along with a smile that Marinette could tell was strained. “Just checking in with my number one fans, no need to panic…”

“What are you doing here?” Marinette asked him, the question blurted out before she remembered that perhaps the current audience was not ideal for such a candid conversation. She glanced over at Adrien, but he was busy stuffing something into his pocket—Plagg, she was assuming.

Oh, right…Emerald Shell only had half the story here, too, didn’t he…?

The acknowledgement of just how many secrets she had been keeping lately settled its full weight onto Marinette, and abruptly, she felt _exhausted._ Who knew not saying things would be so much work?

Emerald Shell sent a glance Adrien’s way as well, frowning as he folded his arms over his chest.

“Well, I know I’ve been…busy with some stuff…” he said vaguely, rubbing the back of his hooded head with a cringe. “But I got back just in time to catch the light show. I dunno what’s going on, but when I saw the akuma flying around, I figured I should see what was up.”

Marinette blinked.

“Akuma?” She asked, searching the night sky for the abominations Shell spoke of…but she didn’t see any of them flying around right now, and there were no akumatized people currently rampaging around Paris, as far as she could tell…

“Yeah…” Shell said slowly, his frown growing more pronounced. “They disappeared as soon as I got here, so I thought, maybe Ladybug had taken care of things…”

Now Marinette frowned too, confused. Shell saw akuma that disappeared the minute he arrived in the square? How strange…another one of Shade’s illusions? If so, what was the purpose?

“There were no akuma tonight,” Adrien said, and Marinette watched anxiously as he addressed Emerald Shell, giving him that same searching stare he’d given Shell the night of Alix’s attack, when too much had been said between them. “…You missed Shade and all the fun she had planned for everybody, though.”

Shell’s eyes widened behind his goggles.

“Oh shit, for real? Damn, I picked the wrong time to leave town. What—”

Abruptly, Emerald Shell cut himself off. For no reason that was discernible to Marinette, his gaze cut to the left, narrowing at something only he seemed able to see, for when Marinette followed his line of vision, she saw nothing of interest in that direction, just a big tree. …But then, what was he staring at…?

“…You know what, never mind,” he decided, glancing back to Adrien and Marinette. “You guys should head home. It’s getting late.”

Marinette shrugged, and then instantly regretted the careless gesture when pain lanced through her right arm, as if to remind her of everything she had put it through tonight. She winced, a hand going to her right bicep, and she felt rather than saw Adrien step closer to her.

“You okay?” Emerald Shell asked, his tone alarmed. Wincing in guilt now, Marinette made herself nod.

“Yeah…just was a little rougher on my arm than I usually am,” she confessed. Shell shot her a concerned glance, looking like he wanted to say something—

Warmth closed around her left hand, and Marinette looked up, blinking at the serious expression on Adrien’s face.

“Let’s go back to my place. It’s closer,” he said. Marinette thought about protesting for a second, but the glint in Adrien’s eyes suggested that he wasn’t about to hear any excuses tonight.

Marinette sighed through her nose. It looked like ‘later’ was officially here.

“All right,” she relented, nodding to him in affirmation before she turned back to Emerald Shell, whose gaze was bouncing back and forth between them, curious. “Well…we’re gonna go. Uh, take care, Emerald Shell. You should probably get some rest, too…maybe call somebody to decompress or something.”

Marinette shot him a look, and Shell made a face at her before huffing.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, waving a hand for them to beat it already. Taking the cue, Marinette allowed Adrien to lead her out of the square, silence falling between them. Inside, Marinette’s insides began to coil into an even more convoluted knot than they had been in all night.

Her stall time was officially up; there was no doubt in her mind that Adrien would be demanding a few answers from her tonight, the first chance he got.

That was fine. It was time for them to talk.

They should _especially_ talk about that little stunt Adrien had pulled earlier, too, because now that her fear and anxiety had subsided…Marinette realized that she was every bit as angry at Adrien for doing something so reckless as his kwami was.

So, yeah, tonight was a good night for this conversation they needed to have.

And it was going to be a _long_ one.

 

* * *

 

Alya had never been so afraid for her best friend in her _life._

The minute she had realized something was going on—she had been reworking the theme of the Ladyblog with a pair of Nino’s headphones on, the volume cranked up high enough to block out the rest of the world until she paused for a break and heard the creepy song—she had transformed and followed the sound of chaos all the way to the Eiffel Tower, just in time to see the fall. Her heart had jumped into her throat, and she had clutched her flute so hard that it might’ve snapped in two if it wasn’t magic, her brain racing her legs as she propelled herself forward, desperate to save them by _any_ means necessary—

And then her presence was rendered unnecessary by that big, blue, flying dude, and so she had hid herself in the shadows across the square, camouflaging herself behind one of the large trees, her relief at seeing her friends rescued so profound that she had actually sank to the ground, her legs turned to jelly.

But then the worry came again—what if this guy wasn’t as charitable as she was allowing herself to believe? Sure, he had saved her stupid, heroic friends’ asses just in the nick of time, but what was _his_ endgame?

Just as she was trying to figure it out, one of her fox ears had picked up a familiar sound in the distance that made her think of jets, propelling a board of some type forward, through the night sky…

Emerald Shell.

Nino had been courteous enough, after ignoring her texts and calls for the past week, to let her know that he would be returning sometime tonight. She just hadn’t expected it to be _this_ soon, but whatever, she would take what she could get.

To help guide him there, Vixen had sent a signal she knew would get his attention, without him having to know that it was her: fluttering akuma glinted in the restored light of the Eiffel Tower, and just as soon as the blue stranger had disappeared into the night, the darkness had produced Emerald Shell, and Vixen had eagerly patted herself on the back for a job well done.

But she froze now in that motion when Shell’s gaze cut to her, as if he could see her…though there was no way he could, she had made _sure_ she was hidden well here…

After a while, he looked away, but it took her a minute to be able to breathe again.

Whew…that had been close. It wasn’t like Nino wasn’t already upset with her for what he felt was a misuse of her powers…maybe she should get out of here, just to avoid another potential conflict…

Even as Vixen thought that, however, she couldn’t stop herself from watching Marinette and Adrien walk away, his hand clasped firmly around hers, as if she would run off if he dared to let go. Vixen clucked her tongue at the sight. Damn. While she might be having problems with her fiancé at the moment, she knew for a fact that Marinette and Adrien would probably be having a doozy of a conversation later tonight…

Still, she wasn’t too worried; as soon as they let out everything they’d been keeping pent up this whole time, they’d probably dissolve into a mushy mess of lovey-dovey honeymoon butterflies after this, their relationship stronger than ever. Vixen almost wanted to gag at the thought, but it also pleased her to know that at least her best friend’s relationship would be without its complications soon…

Vixen turned to go—

Emerald Shell stood right behind her, his arms crossed across his chest, a deadpan expression on his face.

Vixen gave a yelp and jumped about a meter in the air, falling against the tree, feeling her fox ears stand up straight as well as her tail.

When the hell did _he_ get there?!

“I knew I sensed you,” he said flatly as Vixen clutched at her abused heart, breathing heavily. She eyed him warily.

“You can do that?” She asked, bewildered. No fair, the turtle-themed superhero had the power to sense other Miraculous wielders? Wasn’t that, like, cheating or something?

“Well, the fake akuma trick wasn’t exactly subtle, either,” Shell pointed out, and Vixen frowned at the sarcasm in his tone. Well, _she_ had thought it was a good idea…

“It got you here, didn’t it?” She pointed out, deciding to defend herself. Shell opened his mouth, looking like he was going to argue…but after a second, his expression shifted…and he shrugged.

“True,” he conceded. Frowning, his expression lost its hardness, replaced by the warmth of his concern. “Though it looks like I got here too late…what even happened here?”

“I’m not a hundred percent sure,” Vixen admitted, shooting a furtive glance over her shoulder at the Eiffel Tower, glaring at it as it dared to sit there and look innocent after everything that had gone down tonight. “By the time I realized what was going on and got here, everything was basically over.” Vixen turned back around to fix Shell with a frown. “You’d be better off talking to Marinette.”

“…Oh, right,” Shell said after a moment of stunned blinking at Vixen. “I forgot you knew about ‘Nette.”

She knew about Chat Noir, too…but given that it wasn’t her secret to tell, she was leaving that can of worms the hell alone.

…One thing she didn’t know, however…

“Hey, do you know who Boy Blue is?” She asked, her fist resting on her hips as she raised an eyebrow at Shell from underneath her mask. “‘Cause he made an appearance tonight.”

“Boy Blue…?”

“You know—the guy in blue who flies around with a hang-glider?” At Shell’s look of incomprehension, Vixen pulled the unfamiliar name she had heard Marinette call him from her brain. “Pavone or something?”

Shell’s jaw abruptly dropped. Vixen repressed a snort.

“Wait…you saw Pavone??”

“Apparently?” Vixen folded her arms, giving Emerald Shell a curious look. “Who is he?”

“He was the dude who Chose me for the Turtle Miraculous,” Shell said, waving his hand through the air, as if that was a minor detail. “You actually saw him tonight?”

“I take it this guy’s the elusive type,” Vixen commented, feeling herself warm when Shell snorted in amusement, as if everything was normal between them…

“The most we’ve seen of him is one of his feathers he used to save LB’s ass once…” The amusement faded from Shell’s expression. “Until tonight, apparently. Damn, I miss everything.”

“So he’s an ally?”

Shell paused, looking like he was chewing over the words in his mouth.

“…I guess?” He replied after a moment, the uncertain note in his tone causing Vixen to frown. “It’s not like he goes out of his way to help us a lot, but when we _really_ need it, he’s been known to pull some _deus ex machina_ shit from time to time…”

Vixen sighed, her head bobbing in a nod.

“Okay,” she hummed, relieved again. “Good, ‘cause I wasn’t sure what to do when he showed up, which was why I threw up the akuma illusion when I heard you coming, just in case he wasn’t someone that should’ve been hanging around Marinette…though if he had tried anything, I would’ve been on him so fast—what?” Vixen asked, cutting off her half-formed threat at the funny look Shell was giving her. He glanced away from her, but Vixen still saw that smile he was trying to smother as he rubbed the back of his hooded head.

“Nothing,” he lied, chuckling under his breath. Ah…Vixen missed that sound…

“…So,” she began slowly, leaning against the tree behind her as she regarded him somberly, “are we still fighting…?”

That sobered Shell; he took his time answering, his golden gaze fixed on Vixen’s face. She watched him just as intently, waiting for his verdict. If he was waiting for an apology, then she would give one; it probably wasn’t the same, apologizing over text or in voicemails. She wasn’t too proud to apologize again, if that’s what he wanted, and though he had yet to apologize for the things that made _her_ angry, Vixen no longer cared about such foolish words that were said in the heat of the moment.

And she was _unbelievably_ sorry—she never should’ve accused him of not doing his job, and if she thought about it, frankly, bearing such a heavy responsibility like that scared the _shit_ out of her. So the fact that Shell had taken it on, despite the fact that he hadn’t even been a superhero for very long…

Vixen opened her mouth to let this spill from her, to let the words that had been whirling around in her head the minute he stormed out of her apartment two weeks ago flow, just so she could let him know just how sorry she was for saying something so hurtful and unfair, for failing to recognize that this whole superhero thing was _hard_ all on its own without her running around behind his back with her Miraculous all on her own, to tell him that she loved and admired and respected him so much—

Before she could get any of that out, suddenly, Shell’s expression changed, and he was closer to her, his tall frame folding as he leaned into her, strong arms sliding around her…

The kiss was all warmth, love, and sweetness, encompassing everything that Vixen—no, Alya—had fallen in love with the day she first saw through to Nino’s soul. It was everything she cherished about him, everything she wanted to protect.

And it was also everything she didn’t deserve in this moment.

“Nino,” she mumbled against his lips, pulling back briefly so she could speak. “Nino, I’m sor—”

“We can talk later,” Shell mumbled, not even letting her get the full apology out before he was kissing her again, like he refused to hear a word of it. Vixen tried again, but suddenly she had his tongue to contend with as it swiped across her lips and slipped into her mouth. She let out a muffled, breathless laugh and pulled back, blinking as she tried to clear her head, keeping the fire that such kisses from her fiancé stoked within her at bay, with some difficulty.

“W-wait a minute!” She huffed, laughing as Shell kissed her cheek next, his body pressed against hers, pinning her to the tree. “We can’t make out here! What if someone comes through here and sees? D’you want to start a superhero scandal?”

Shell muttered something about where the good citizens of Paris could stick their superhero scandal, cutting Vixen’s laugh short as he kissed her again. And she let him, giving into the heat and tenderness of the moment.

Ah, fuck it—so what if someone came along and saw them? It didn’t really much matter, did it? No matter what they said, the citizens of Paris would believe of them what they wanted to believe.

Besides, no matter what they thought about the relationship status of Vixen and Emerald Shell, the citizens of Paris would _never_ be as in their face about it as they were when discussing the relationship status of Ladybug and Chat Noir.

 

* * *

 

“Let me see it.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal—”

“Let me _see_ it, Marinette.”

Marinette raised her eyebrows at him—it was possible that she did not appreciate his tone. But Adrien did not care. Now was not the time for her to act tough; if they were going to do something about her shoulder before any permanent damage could set in, then they had to do something now.

Still, Marinette dragged her feet on the issue—metaphorically speaking, that is. Since she was currently sitting on the high counter in Adrien’s kitchen, her feet weren’t close enough to the floor to drag them. In a less tense situation, he would’ve found it adorable how her legs dangled as she sat there, lips pursed in a pout. He folded his arms and arched an eyebrow, waiting.

Finally, Marinette huffed and gave in. The wince that crossed her face as she carefully moved her right arm through her t-shirt hurt Adrien; he stepped forward to help, but she lifted her left hand to stall him.

“I’ve got it,” she huffed, sounding impatient. He supposed, in a way, he could understand why she might be put out with him—Ladybug, requiring help with taking off a shirt? It probably didn’t help that he had practically dragged her to his house in the first place, either…

Instead of hovering as Marinette carefully removed her shirt, Adrien went to the freezer, where his ice packs were stored. As he passed, he felt something whizz past him, and he managed to snag Plagg’s tail just before the mischievous creature entered the freezer.

“There’s no cheese for you in there,” he reminded his kwami, who turned to give him a dry look, swatting Adrien’s thumb with his tail the moment he let go.

“I was heading for the cookie jar,” he drawled, jerking his head at the island that sat in the center of Adrien’s kitchen. “Tikki’s finished hers already.”

“Oh, you don’t have to get me more,” piped the red and black creature with the pretty indigo eyes that hadn’t left Plagg’s side since they had arrived at Adrien’s house. The kwami of the Ladybug Miraculous, huh…Adrien hadn’t known what to expect in regards to said kwami, but seeing her, and witnessing how polite and caring she was, he wasn’t surprised…although he was just the tiniest bit envious…

“After everything these suicidal kids put us through tonight?” Plagg scoffed, skirting around the freezer to the cookie jar. “You’re getting more cookies.”

Adrien raised an eyebrow. Rare were the times when Plagg showed concern for anything that wasn’t cheese…was he on his best behavior because Tikki was here? Hmm, maybe she brought out a better side of him…

“Move,” Plagg hissed at Adrien when he returned from the cookie jar, laden down with a couple cookies. Startled, Adrien stepped back, though Plagg could’ve easily flown around him, and the kwami glided past with his nose in the air. Adrien rolled his eyes. So much for his previous assumption…

The cold of the ice packs in his hands reminded him of his previous purpose in going to the freezer; he turned around and moved back to Marinette. Her shirt rested on the counter, and while Adrien normally would’ve spent some time focusing on that lacy pink and white polka-dotted bra she was wearing, his attention was immediately stolen by that dark bruise that was spreading around her right shoulder. Adrien let out a hiss at the sight.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not if I don’t move it,” Marinette admitted, and Adrien shook his head. What a disaster this night had turned out to be.

Still…he supposed it could have been worse…

He carefully positioned the ice packs on Marinette’s shoulder, rummaging around in a nearby drawer until he found some gauze to wrap around her shoulder to hold the packs in place. As he worked, he could see Marinette eyeing him from her peripheral vision. Her eyes were intent on his face, and her lips were pursed, but she wasn’t pouting this time—by the set of her jaw, Adrien could tell that she was trying to hold back from saying something. He made himself finish what he was doing, for sooner rather than later, Marinette would spit out what was on her mind…

His prediction came true the minute he finished securing the gauze.

“Adrien,” Marinette began darkly, pausing until Adrien dared to meet her eyes, their normally bright color dark to match her grave expression. “…What the hell were you thinking?”

Adrien frowned. Boy, this was going to be a fun conversation…

“I wanted to protect you,” he said simply, looking away from Marinette’s burning look as rebellion and shame battled it out inside him. While he didn’t feel he had done anything wrong here, he knew Marinette wouldn’t see it that way.

Sure enough, she gripped his jaw to make him look at her again, her scowl fierce and unrelenting.

“That doesn’t mean you _do_ something like that!” She protested hotly. “Do you realize what would have happened if I hadn’t caught you in time, or if Pavone hadn’t shown up?!”

Oh, yes…that was another thing…

“So it wasn’t okay for me to let go,” Adrien said slowly, pulling his chin from Marinette’s grasp and frowning at her, “but it was fine for you to do so? Even though I let go so you’d have a chance to survive?”

“I wouldn’t have let go if you hadn’t let go!”

“Really? Not even if our positions were reversed?”

Marinette opened her mouth to argue, but then she shut it again, her glare failing to cover up the fact that Adrien had a point, and she knew it. She quickly found a way around it, however.

“I hate it when you do stuff like that,” she growled, wincing when she jostled her right shoulder as she folded her arms. “Always jumping in the way or something…it’s not like I can’t take a hit. I’m not helpless, you know.”

Adrien’s eyes narrowed as he stared at her. Did she just…?

“I _know_ you’re Ladybug,” he said, and the relief of actually being able to acknowledge this fact out loud was unfortunately short-lived, giving way to Adrien’s greater irritation. Marinette twitched, but Adrien went on. “I know what you’re capable of, okay? That’s not why I jump in the way, and you know it.”

“Well I wish you’d stop anyway!” Marinette fussed, sliding off the counter to stand her ground against him, despite being shorter than him. Her left hand went to her hip as she glared up at him, her injured arm held stiffly at her side. “You could have _died_ tonight! Do you understand that?!”

“Amazingly enough, I’m not stupid,” Adrien shot back, folding his arms and returning her glare, thoroughly annoyed by her attitude. “I know the risks of what we do, Marinette. I know the supersuits can only keep us from so much damage. I was there when my father died, too.”

Marinette blanched, and instantly, Adrien regretted the words. Part of him wanted to apologize, but the words got lost somewhere on the way to his throat, and they just ended up staring at each other.

“…Maybe we should—” whispered Tikki’s voice from behind Adrien, but Plagg shushed her, apparently eager to see the outcome of the fight. Adrien threw a scowl behind him at the kwami, who didn’t bother to react, his tail flicking back and forth, green eyes glittering.

“…You were there,” Marinette mumbled, and Adrien turned back around, watching as her expression grew slowly more horrified the longer he looked at her. “You were there that night…”

Though Adrien knew that Marinette had known that he was Chat Noir for quite some time, it seemed that she was just now realizing that he had also been there to witness Hawk Moth’s demise; she covered her mouth with a hand, but it wasn’t enough to muffle the whimper that escaped her.

He glanced away, hating the pity in her gaze. He had finally moved on from Hawk Moth’s death; he wasn’t about to let her drag him back into the horror that was that night.

“I’m over it,” he said roughly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Let it go.”

She didn’t seem ready to let it go, however.

“Adrien,” she whimpered through her fingers, and he _hated_ the tears that began to gather in her eyes. “Adrien, I’m sorry.”

“I know. You apologized months ago, remember?” Adrien reminded her wearily, for though he hated to rehash old issues, it looked like they wouldn’t be getting through the night without doing so. “When you showed up as Ladybug upstairs on my balcony.”

Again, on the word ‘Ladybug’, Marinette flinched, as if Adrien had made an aggressive move towards her. He stared at her, not understanding the reaction.

“What? You don’t like me calling you ‘Ladybug’?”

Marinette lowered her head, clutching her right arm self-consciously.

“I…i-it’s still new…” she mumbled.

“We’ve known about each other’s identities for about a month, Marinette.”

“Well yeah, but…” Marinette huffed, tucking a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear, catching her bottom lip in between her teeth. “Knowing it and talking about it are two different things…”

“But why?” Adrien pressed, stepping forward as he searched Marinette’s expression, like the answers themselves would start inking themselves over her skin if he stared long enough. “Why is it different? And why did we have to wait so long to talk about it?”

“Because I wasn’t ready,” Marinette protested, and though Adrien knew this, it still didn’t make any sense to him.

“I don’t understand,” he admitted, frustrated by it. “What did you have to be ready for? It’s _me._ ”

“Exactly,” Marinette answered, though this response made even less sense to him, especially when she added, “it’s _you,_ Adrien! I mean, yeah, I started getting suspicious after Valentine’s Day, but before then, never in all my life would I have guessed…I mean…weren’t _you_ surprised to find out it was _me?_ ”

“No,” Adrien said, a part of him amused at the look of blatant _shock_ that crossed Marinette’s features. She was so nonsensical—why in the world would he have trouble believing she was Ladybug? His amusement faded as soon as it had come, and Adrien was serious again. “But I don’t understand you—if you needed time to process that I’m Chat Noir…does that mean you were disappointed when you found out?”

“No,” Marinette denied with a shake of her head, but the swift response made Adrien suspicious.

“Then what was it? Why couldn’t we talk about it until now? Were you afraid I was going to broadcast it to the world or something?” Adrien shook his head at that ridiculous thought. “Don’t you trust me, Marinette?”

The words were thoughtless, a jest. Adrien didn’t honestly doubt that Marinette lacked faith in him whatsoever…

But he hadn’t expected her to hesitate.

The kitchen grew still and silent. As Adrien stared at Marinette, her teeth worrying her bottom lip, he felt himself go cold.

“You don’t trust me,” he whispered, feeling the fissure that cracked through his heart at the crushing, yet unsurprising fact. Marinette’s expression grew contrite.

“I didn’t say that,” she denied, crossing her arms around herself, as if to protect herself from the accusation…or maybe it was just hitting her that she was still shirtless. Either way, she looked uncomfortable. And Adrien was hurt.

“But it’s true, isn’t it?” He pressed, taking another step forward, his heart throbbing painfully when Marinette stepped back from him, the distance between them sharp and stinging. “Or is it that you don’t really trust Chat Noir, and now that it turns out that he’s me, that distrust extends to me now, too?”

“That’s not true!” Marinette protested, but it sounded like something she was saying just to avoid a fight. Adrien stared at her, his hands flexing at his sides as he tried to keep his composure, composure that was quickly splintering, coming apart at the seams—

“Now I get it…” He laughed, his voice hollow, devoid of actual cheer. “Is that the real reason you didn’t want to keep your fashion career associated with me? So you could endorse AVA with a clear conscience?”

“Adrien, you _know_ why I want to branch out on my own—”

“But did you _have_ to include AVA?” Adrien cut across her, all the anger, hurt, and frustration he had been holding inside welling up to the surface, finally given an outlet to be free. “After everything they put us through?”

As petulant as it sounded, Adrien’s frustrations would not allow him to omit his next words: 

“After everything they put _me_ through?! I thought you were on _my_ side, Marinette!”

“Adrien, _please_ try to understand,” Marinette asked of him, determined calm in her voice as she raised her hands to placate him. “What AVA did to us—and to you— _was_ wrong, but they’re trying to change now. And they needed me.”

The doubt must’ve been clear on Adrien’s face, for Marinette grew indignant.

“What, did you just want me to turn my back on them? After I’ve seen, with my own two eyes, how hard they’re trying to turn themselves around? What if I had done that to you?”

And there it was: the issue that clearly divided them, no matter what either of them said to the contrary. And all this time, Adrien had been foolish enough to believe that Marinette was actually over it…

“I thought you meant it when you said you forgave me,” he said quietly, the words burning like acid, because things shouldn’t be this way, and this wasn’t how Adrien pictured this going down at all. He thought that, when they had _finally_ gotten around to discussing this, that they would laugh at their own mutual stupidity over how long it had taken them both to realize the truth, after all the clues they had been given, and yet foolishly disregarded as coincidence. He shouldn’t be learning that Marinette didn’t even trust him; he should be holding her, telling her how much he loved her, whether she was in or out of her costume. They should be coming together, body and heart and soul, ready to finally accept each other fully, just as they were…

There was heartbreak there in Marinette’s eyes, and Adrien wondered if he, too, looked as bad as she seemed to feel.

“Adrien…” She trailed off, shaking her head before starting again. “Chat, I _did_ mean it when I said I forgave you. It’s not that I don’t trust you, either…it’s…” She sighed, lowering her eyes to the floor. “I forgave you…but you still hurt me, so much. And to find out that you were my boyfriend _and_ my partner?”

Marinette looked up to meet his gaze again, her eyes tight and anxious.

“Can’t you understand how hard that was for me?”

…Adrien did understand that, actually. Probably a lot better than Marinette wanted him to.

“You hurt me, too,” he reminded her, feeling _so_ petty for pointing it out, and yet, still feeling that it needed to be said if they were going to gain any closure on this matter. “That night, when you left me standing on my balcony, feeling like an idiot…I didn’t come out of this unscathed either, you know.”

Marinette blinked at him.

“…I know,” she said slowly, her brows knitting together as she stared up at him. “But I said I was sorry.”

“So did I.”

“…So what are you saying?” Marinette wanted to know, attempting to fold her arms again and wincing when she seemed to remember her injury. Adrien wished she would stay still. “Since we’ve hurt each other in the past, that makes us even?”

“No,” Adrien answered, his offense growing at such a ridiculous insinuation. “What I’m saying is, though you hurt me, I never lost faith in _you_.”

“So, what, that makes you the better person in this scenario?” Marinette asked, her tone as heated as her gaze. “I’m sorry I broke your heart, Adrien, but these two situations are not the same! I might have rejected you, but it wasn’t _me_ who turned my back on my partner and started terrorizing half of Paris in a black, leather cat suit!”

“I’m not denying what I did!” Adrien protested, feeling his face grow hot in anger and shame. “But if you actually forgave me, it shouldn’t have taken you this long to be okay with the fact that I’m Chat Noir!”

“I can’t help how I feel about all this, Adrien! I needed time! I thought you understood that!”

“I did until I found out it was because you were having issues seeing me and Chat Noir as the same person,” Adrien said bitterly. Marinette’s mouth opened in outrage.

“What did you want me to do, _force_ myself to be okay with the fact that my boyfriend was the same guy who betrayed and abandoned me just a few months ago?!” She spat at him. Whatever shred of patience Adrien possessed in this moment vanished, and he snapped.

“If I can be okay with the fact that my girlfriend _murdered my father_ seven years ago, what’s _your_ excuse?!”

Marinette stared at him like he had struck her, all the color draining from her face. Adrien felt himself panting, his savage pleasure at rendering her speechless fading quickly, once he realized what he had just said. Again, silence fell between them, though this silence was sharper than the last.

This…was pointless, wasn’t it? They kept arguing in circles, insisting in a roundabout way that the scars of the past they still carried were more painful than the scars they had inflicted. No one was wrong here, exactly, but were either of them right?

Just what were they supposed to do here? How on earth could they be okay after this…?

Marinette’s hands had closed into fists, and they were trembling along with her bottom lip. But her expression was still furious as she said, in a flat voice,

“Well…if you’re so concerned about the fact that I’m a _murderer_ …then maybe we’re done here.”

“…”

Was she…breaking up with him?

Adrien’s jaw locked, his horror at such a thought overridden by his anger.

Here she was, running away again, refusing to face the problem head on. She wanted things to be this way? Fine. If she wanted to run, then Adrien wasn’t going to chase her.

Not anymore.

“Since you’re so caught up over me being a traitor, I guess we are,” he replied tersely.

Marinette stared up at him, looking like she wanted to say more…but she didn’t. Instead, she snatched up her shirt, pulled it back on awkwardly over the ice packs, and began to march her way out of the kitchen.

“Tikki,” she called, pausing only long enough to say her kwami’s name before she continued out into the dining room, her back ramrod straight with her head held high. Adrien’s gaze was ripped from her back only when Tikki entered his line of sight. The kwami gave him a sad little smile, reaching forward and touching the tip of his nose with her tiny hand.

Abruptly, Adrien thought of the way Marinette would always poke his nose, and his throat closed up.

“Thanks for the cookies,” she said, polite as ever, gliding away after her Chosen when Marinette called for her a second time, an impatient snap in her tone.

The slam of the front door was distant, and yet it echoed through Adrien, sending him staggering against the very counter Marinette had been perched upon just a few minutes ago, before everything went wrong, so horribly wrong…

“Congratulations, kid,” Plagg drawled from the island, his gaze flat as he watched Adrien dispassionately. “Not only did you almost get yourself killed tonight, but you’ve also managed to alienate both your crime-fighting partner _and_ your girlfriend in one fell swoop…though I’m taking points off because they just happen to be the same person. Otherwise, bravo.”

The mocking applause of his kwami should have made him angry. But it didn’t. Instead, Adrien just found that he was so very, very tired.

“Plagg,” he grumbled, raising a hand and massaging his temple, briefly closing his eyes, “I will give you all the cheese that is currently in the fridge if you just _stop talking_.”

He opened his eyes to watch as Plagg stared at him, as if the bribery of so much camembert would not work on him this time around. But after a minute or two, he shrugged, making a zipper motion across his mouth. Feeling relieved, and yet strangely let down, Adrien moved to the fridge again, stacking wheel after wheel of camembert on the island until there was no more left in the fridge. As Plagg dive-bombed the leaning tower of cheese, Adrien rummaged through the cabinet next to the fridge, his hand closing around a bottle of whiskey.

Tonight was not a night for ‘that zinfandel crap’ he liked, as Nino would say. Adrien had nearly fallen to his death, had managed to enrage his crime-fighting partner, and his girlfriend had just broken up with him.

It was a rough Friday night, to say the very least. So yeah, now was a good time for the hard liquor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELP.
> 
> There it is, the reveal you've all been asking for!
> 
> I hope you e n j o y e d~
> 
> 8D
> 
> ~Reyna


	34. Squad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is a meme and I am not sorry.
> 
> ...
> 
> Okay, I'm a little sorry. :P
> 
> Regardless, enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

The sunlight filtered through the dusty windows, its shine muted, but still managing to break through. Marinette watched, intrigued by the fact that light could still flood this place, despite meeting a barrier. Even if the sun was indifferent to its effect on this place, it still managed to make her…hopeful. It was a strange way to feel, but there it was.

“…And that settles it,” said a voice behind her, and Marinette turned her gaze onto the tall, dark-skinned, pregnant ex-model in the room, who was snapping what looked like a check book shut, shaking hands with a pleased-looking realtor. “A pleasure doing business with you.”

“And you,” said the realtor, and Marinette was amused when he turned towards her with slightly wide eyes, as if he couldn’t believe someone like _her_ was associated with someone like _Amara Sainte de-Couquille._ Marinette really couldn’t blame him his surprise—she had just gotten lucky, after all. “Enjoy your new boutique, _mademoiselle_.”

“Thank you,” Marinette replied, smiling faintly as the realtor nodded his way out. She turned back to the large windows in front of her, picturing the sight beyond them—just a few streets away stood the Eiffel Tower, with a good bit of the Seine set just beyond that. Despite her recent…difficulties…associated with the tower, Marinette could not be more pleased with the location, even if she tried…

It was too bad ‘happiness’ was an emotion that was currently avoiding her. But at least she had stopped crying…for now…

“You’re so quiet,” remarked Amara as she joined Marinette at the windows, her dark eyes roving over Marinette’s face curiously. “I truly can’t tell if this is just your nature…or if something’s bothering you.”

Oh great. Now she was concerning her investor. Time to get it together before Amara decided that she was too much of a risk.

“It’s nothing,” she assured Amara, forcing a smile with little to no difficulty—wow, she had been spending too much time around A—

‘ _DON’T THINK ABOUT HIM,_ ’ her mind interrupted, and Marinette quickly shut the stray thought down, sternly making herself focus on the conversation at hand to avoid more pain than was necessary.

Hastily, Marinette glanced away, hoping Amara wouldn’t catch the agony in her eyes as she stared blankly at the dusty windows.

“It’s just…this is really happening, isn’t it…?”

This made Amara chuckle.

“It really is,” she confirmed for Marinette, patting her shoulder. Immediately, Marinette thought of Desiree, and another thorny vine twisted itself tighter around her heart. “I’m surprised you were able to find a space so fast, though.”

“Ah, yeah,” Marinette laughed uncertainly. “Well, I kind of just threw myself into the search last week... _I’m_ surprised this place was even _available_.”

“It’s very lucky it was,” Amara agreed. Marinette felt a tiny bump against her hip, originating from her purse. She smiled a secret smile, watching as Amara strode to the center of the empty building, turning in a slow, graceful circle. “It’ll need a proper cleaning, of course, but it’s a very beautiful building, and the location is excellent. Have you given any thought to what you might want to name it?”

“…”

Amara paused, raising an eyebrow at Marinette.

“…You look like you have an idea…but don’t want to admit it,” she mused, and Marinette felt her face grow hot. Jeez, was she _that_ easy to read? If only she had Beauty Queen’s mirror; then she could steal Felix’s flawless poker face, and this wouldn’t be a problem.

“Well…” she began slowly, chewing on her bottom lip when Amara continued to look expectantly at her, “I figured…since it was my superhero line that kick-started this whole thing…that I might want to name the boutique after them.”

Amara blinked.

“…You want to name the boutique after each of Paris’ heroes?” She glanced away, a finger to her chin as she pursed her lips in thought. “What would be a good combination of their names to allow that…? LadyNoirShell? Something like that?”

“Oh god, no,” Marinette denied with a shake of her head, puckering her lips to keep from laughing at Amara’s suggestion. “No, I meant…well, I kind of like the name ‘Miraculous’.”

Amara paused, tilting her head to the side.

“Miraculous,” she repeated, sounding out the word and making it sound glamorous. “…I like it.”

Marinette smiled a little more genuinely now.

“Well, it’s still a ‘maybe’,” she reminded the ex-model, “but I’m glad to know where you’re—is something wrong?”

“Mm-mm,” Amara hummed, shaking her head as a hand slid over her belly, which barely protruded from her body. “The baby’s kicking.”

“Oh!” Marinette exclaimed in delight, moving forward, hands outstretched…but then she paused, worried that she was being incredibly presumptuous. “Oh, uh…can I—?”

Looking amused, Amara took Marinette’s wrists, guiding her hands forward to circle her baby bump. The tiny thudding against her hands made Marinette squeak in surprise, and Amara laughed.

“It’s a strong baby,” she remarked as Marinette slowly moved her hands away, staring in awe at Amara’s belly.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not as much as you might think.” Amara slid a hand over her stomach again, smiling fondly. “I think he’s cranky because he doesn’t have much room to move around.”

“You already know it’s a boy?”

Amara shrugged.

“Not in medical terms…but despite Jacques wanting a little girl, I have a strong feeling that it’s a boy. Mother’s intuition,” she explained with a wink, and Marinette laughed a little.

“I’m so surprised at how small your belly is,” she said, following Amara to the door to exit the dusty place. “Oh, uh, sorry if that sounds rude—”

“Not at all,” Amara said graciously, passing through the door and practically gliding down the stairs, she was so graceful. The clumsy side of Marinette was instantly jealous. “Because of my height, my doctor predicts that the baby will stretch up instead of out, so I might not get much bigger than this.”

“I bet all the expecting mothers in Paris wish they had your pregnant figure, too,” Marinette remarked, just imagining the jealous looks Amara must get whenever she admitted she was four months pregnant instead of the two months her appearance suggested. Amara laughed again, smoothing her hair back from her face.

“Well, enough about me,” she said, waving a hand through the air, as if to brush the topic of her pregnancy aside. “If you’d like, I can hire a few helping hands to help you fix this place up.”

“That might be necessary,” Marinette regretfully reported, cringing as she shot a glance at the building behind her—her future boutique. She still couldn’t believe it… “There’s a _lot_ of dust in there, and I’m not sure if my friends like me _that_ much.”

“Oh dear,” Amara said idly, smiling in amusement. “Well, you have my number, should you need anything.”

She took one of Marinette’s hands, placing something in her palm before closing her fingers around it. When she let go, Marinette opened her hand, a spark of excitement passing through her at the key resting in her palm.

The key to her very own boutique.

The part of her that wasn’t bogged down with the misery attached to her current woes wanted to squeal, sing, and hug Amara all at the same time…but Marinette restrained herself to the first real smile she’d probably smiled in days.

“Thank you so much, Amara,” she said, breathless with gratitude. “I’m so lucky to have someone like you and _M._ Sainte de-Couquille on my side.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Amara chided her firmly, though she was smiling. “It has everything to do with your talent, Marinette. I have complete faith that you’ll be a huge success.”

Ah, the lavish compliments. Though they were coming from a different source now, they still kind of hurt. Still, Marinette made herself smile.

“Thank you,” she said once more, humbled. Amara smiled, leaning in and kissing Marinette’s cheek, the way she did at the winter gala, with A—

‘ _You’re not supposed to think about him!!_ ’ Marinette stubbornly reminded herself, feeling exhausted. In between _not_ thinking about him, and trying to find a suitable place for her boutique, along with impending finals and dodging Alya’s invites to hang out because she didn’t want her best friend to notice that she wasn’t happy, Marinette was absolutely bushed. One thing was for sure—she couldn’t keep going like this. Sooner rather than later, something was going to have to give.

“I should go—Jacques will be waiting for me,” Amara said, bringing Marinette out of her own mind with the self-dismissal. Her driver dutifully awaited her by the curb, and Marinette watched as he helped Amara into the back seat of the car. She raised a hand, meaning to wave farewell to the car as it drove off, but then Amara rolled her window down, amusement glinting in her eyes now rather than in her smile.

“…You know, I think I misspoke,” she said, regarding Marinette in a strange, familiar way… “I think luck _might_ have a little to do with this.”

Marinette blinked, and Amara winked at her, rolling the window back up as the car pulled away. Huh…she didn’t mean…nah, no way. That was impossible…wasn’t it?

Marinette’s phone buzzed in her pocket, interrupting her train of thought. She fished out her phone, heart in her throat—oh, but it was only Nino. There was both relief and disappointment in that realization as Marinette unlocked her phone to read the text.

_Nino: hey_

_Nino: patrol still on 2nite?_

Marinette sighed and sent him a confirmation.

Patrol tonight…right. It _was_ Monday night, wasn’t it…?

This was going to be several thousand shades of awkward.

 

* * *

 

Ladybug could feel Emerald Shell staring at her, but she wouldn’t look at him. She was facing resolutely away, her arms folded over her legs as she stared blindly over the Seine, feeling herself pouting and hating it. She knew Chat Noir was nearby, on the opposite side of the roof—she could _feel_ him there, ignoring her as thoroughly as she was trying to ignore him. Asshole.

Not a word had passed between them, ever since they had met up here, on the roof of this abandoned building, for patrol. But that couldn’t last—they needed to discuss their next move, for Shade had gone silent again, and Desiree had effectively disappeared off the grid, according to a tearful Amanda, when Marinette had dropped by the café to question her.

Ladybug scowled. She hated this—it felt like their enemy held all the cards, and the one foothold she’d managed to gain last week crumbled away the minute she dared to put weight on it. This was awful, and it wasn’t even _including_ the current romantic strife she was suffering through…

“…Okay,” Shell began in an exhausted tone, and Ladybug saw him frown at the pair of them from her peripheral vision, “why is it that every time I dare to leave the two of you alone, something’s always up when I come back?” When he got no reply, he huffed in exasperation. “Seriously, what the hell’s the problem now?”

Chat Noir didn’t bother answering him, and Ladybug didn’t know _how_ to answer him without breaking into a whole other can of worms, so she stayed silent as well. After another tense moment, Emerald Shell let out a longsuffering sigh.

“Well damn, if I’d known you two would be wrapped up in this cold war you’ve got going on for whatever reason, I wouldn’t have told her to meet us here tonight.”

That caught Ladybug’s attention.

“Her who?” She asked, her head whipping around to stare in surprise at Emerald Shell, who was looking equal parts smug and apprehensive.

“The new Miraculous user you asked me to pick,” he announced, and Ladybug scrabbled to her feet, thankful for a piece of _good_ news to focus on in her superhero life.

Even Chat seemed interested; though Ladybug did everything she could to not be aware of him, she still _felt_ it when he stood up, saw from her peripheral vision that his body was now angled towards Shell, heard the curiosity in his voice as he asked,

“You finally found someone?”

“I found someone a while ago,” Shell admitted, rubbing the back of his hooded head as he cringed at Ladybug. “Sorry for taking so long to introduce her. I know I should’ve done it earlier, but we’ve, uh, had a lot going on—”

“Well, anything important always has to be taken care of ‘later’…apparently it’s a rule,” Chat drawled, looking away from the burning look Ladybug shot him. If that wasn’t the _second_ most petty, immature, unfair thing he’s ever said—

“Okaaaay,” Shell said slowly, and Ladybug noticed the concerned gaze he gave her before he mostly shrugged the moment off. “Anyway, she should be here in about—”

Suddenly, something dropped onto the roof behind Ladybug, startling her; in her haste to turn around, she slipped, but Shell caught and righted her at the last minute, sighing again.

“Now,” he finished dryly as the figure in orange straightened up.

“Yo,” she greeted, smirking as Ladybug gaped at her in shock.

“V- _Volpina?!_ ” She squawked, staring at the all too familiar foxlike figure. Before she could figure out which method would be the most effective in removing the akumatized ‘hero’ from her presence, Shell’s hands closed around her upper arms like shackles as ‘Volpina’ glanced down at herself, blinking her dark green eyes in surprise.

“Oh right, forgot about this,” she mumbled to herself with a sheepish look that was very much _not_ like the Lila Rossi Ladybug had had the displeasure of knowing. “One sec—”

‘Volpina’ snapped, and a cloud of orange dust burst from her. Ladybug jumped again, not expecting the trick, but when the smoke finally cleared…

This heroine was nothing like the Volpina akuma. Sure, their costume color and themes were similar, but this fox-themed heroine had darker skin, and her eyes were lighter, which she closed as she shook out her dark hair, which was wild and ended in several white tips. As Ladybug stared at her, the heroine smiled and gave her a salute.

“Hey. I’m Vixen. Nice to be here on…” Her lips pursed, as if she was trying not to laugh. “…Team Miraculous.”

“Right,” Shell huffed, releasing Ladybug’s arms and stepping around her, gesturing to the new heroine. “LB, Whiskers: this is Vixen. As you might’ve guessed already, she’s been up to…extracurricular activities.”

“…That night at City Hall…” Chat muttered, and Ladybug abruptly remembered—the ‘Volpina’ sighting that had confused and perplexed them, but ended up being a minor detail in light of everything that had happened—

“That was _you?_ ” She questioned. Vixen gave a shrug, grimacing a little.

“Guilty,” she admitted, side-glancing at Shell. “Turtle Boy said I should probably come clean with you before I could officially join the team.”

Now Ladybug turned to Shell.

“You knew about this?”

Shell frowned.

“I only found out recently,” he prefaced, before sighing and rubbing the back of his hooded head. “But yeah, I knew. Again, sorry I didn’t say anything earlier.”

While Ladybug wanted to be annoyed that she had apparently been left out of this particular loop for so long…she couldn’t be indignant in front of Chat Noir, because he would no doubt call her out on her hypocrisy. The thought of him doing that annoyed her much more than this discovery, and so she let it go for now…though she did pass Shell a particular look.

“You couldn’t have gone with the Bee Miraculous?” She asked, causing Shell to frown at her.

“You said I could pick either one,” he reminded her, his tone hot, but his gaze behind his goggles…insecure. Abruptly, Ladybug realized that he must have been _nervous_ about introducing Vixen tonight, because apparently, things hadn’t gone to plan when he Chose her, if it took him this long to bring her to the team. Feeling bad for her slight, Ladybug stepped forward, patting his arm.

“Thank you, Shell,” she made sure to say to him, smiling in encouragement. Shell let out another breath, but it was more like he was relieved than aggravated this time around; he even returned Ladybug’s smile a little. Squeezing his arm, Ladybug turned to Volpi—er, Vixen now, inspecting her.

She was the real deal all right—Ladybug had made sure to thoroughly inspect the Fox Miraculous while it had been in her possession, and one look at it now, hanging around the new heroine’s neck, told Ladybug everything she needed to know. Well, that was one weight off her already overworked shoulders…

Vixen seemed perfectly at her leisure; she stood with her feet apart, a hand resting casually on her hip as she watched Ladybug size her up, a slight smile on her face, as if she was waiting for Ladybug to quiz her. Ladybug frowned at that expression, unsure about whether or not it should concern her…but if Emerald Shell Chose her…

“So,” she began, folding her arms and fixing Vixen with a searching look, “if you were Chosen a while ago…what were you doing apparently hanging out with AVA?”

“Oh, that. I…kind of took on a self-appointed side mission,” Vixen admitted, grimacing. “Nobody knew about me yet, and it seemed like you guys were having the most trouble with AVA at the time…so I thought I should try my hand at infiltration.”

Hmm. From what Ladybug could gather, it had been effective enough—from what she had seen and what Shell had told her happened after she and Chat had pursued the mayor, Vixen had seemed to hold enough sway with AVA that they had rallied around her without much prompting…or maybe it was just because she had been their only escape route that night. But either way…

“…They’re a lot more tame these days,” Ladybug noted, pursing her lips as she eyed Vixen. “…You wouldn’t have anything to do with that…would you?”

At this, Vixen grinned. The gesture startled Ladybug, because, well…it looked _very_ familiar…

“I _miiiight’ve_ given them a nudge in their current direction,” she said modestly, save for that fox’s grin on her face. “Them sticking with it is all them, though; I only popped by in disguise tonight to make sure they were doing all right.”

“…Well,” said Chat, and Ladybug _hated_ herself for the stirring within herself at the sound of his voice, “seems like we shouldn’t really underestimate you.”

Vixen gave a snort.

“Relax, Whiskers, I’m on your side,” she reminded him, and Ladybug withheld her laugh as Chat’s eyes narrowed at Vixen. However, as entertaining as she suspected it might be to watch Vixen and Chat butt heads, there was already too much tension in the team already, and so she cut in.

“Well, however long it took, it’s good to have you on the team, Vixen,” she said with an approving nod, brushing off Shell’s blatant look of surprise with a tongue stuck out in his direction. She glanced around, eyes only briefly resting on Chat before she swiftly looked away, her heart throbbing painfully. “Since we now have a full team, after we patrol the city, I think tonight’s a good night to debrief, and go over everything we know about our enemy so far. I have some new information, and I want to know if you guys have anything to add.”

Chat snorted softly, almost like he didn’t want the sound to be heard. Immediately, Ladybug whirled on him.

“Do you have a problem?” She wanted to know, bristling at once, for things were already unpleasant and prickly between them, and it was probably only a matter of time before one of them broke down and snapped at the other.

Chat regarded her coolly, and Ladybug was unpleasantly reminded of his homecoming just a few months ago…it had been so long since he had looked at her like that…

“I didn’t say anything,” he pointed out. Ladybug opened her mouth to point out that, yes, while he _technically_ hadn’t said anything this time, it was clear he had an attitude, and if he had something he wanted to say to her face—

“Whoa,” Vixen cut in; Ladybug turned to find her eyes bouncing back and forth between her and Chat, a slight frown on her face, looking like she was trying to piece together clues. Eventually, her eyes rested on Shell, tilting her head curiously. “Did I miss something…?”

Shell sighed and shook his head.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he said, patting Vixen’s shoulder. “Welcome to the team,” he added wryly.

Ladybug, realizing that it was Vixen’s first night with the team—and that drama should therefore be kept to a minimum—sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Let’s…just split up for patrol,” she decided, wincing as she felt a migraine coming on. “Since I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be alone with the possibility of Shade lurking in the shadows, we’ll go in pairs…”

Ladybug frowned. Normally, she’d pair up with Chat and let Vixen and Shell patrol together, since they seemed like they were close…but considering the circumstances…

“…Vixen,” she began, making up her mind quickly, “it’s your first night on patrol, so I want you to be with a veteran to show you the ropes. So you’ll be with Chat Noir.”

She felt Chat look at her at this declaration, but when she turned to ask him once again if he had a problem, he was looking away, gaze turned towards the Seine.

Vixen, in any case, seem to take this decision in stride.

“You got it, Lady Luck,” she agreed with a wink and another salute. Ladybug watched as the new hero moved to stand beside Chat, bemused. Looked like she had picked up yet another nickname…

“You two take the east and south sides of the city,” she directed, talking mostly to Vixen, since Chat was being…well… “If there are any issues, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

At Vixen’s nod of understanding, Ladybug turned to Emerald Shell next.

“We’ll take the north and west,” she decided, and Shell nodded.

“Whatever you say, LB.”

“Where do we meet up after patrol?” Vixen wanted to know; there was an excited gleam in her eyes that amused Ladybug, reminding her of a kid in a candy store. “The Eiffel Tower?”

“ _No,_ ” Ladybug and Chat Noir insisted at the same time. She blinked at him and he stared at her, equally surprised, before he seemed to remember that they were angry at each other and he looked away again, arms folded over his chest. Vixen stared at the pair of them, and Ladybug withheld yet another sigh.

“Just…let’s meet back here, all right?” She said, pinching the bridge of her nose again for a moment. Vixen stared at her, silent…and then she gave a shrug.

“You’re the boss, Lady Luck.”

“Right…well, let’s go,” Ladybug commanded. Chat took off without further prompting, and Vixen followed him, her fox’s grin in place. Ladybug watched them go for a moment before turning to stride towards the other end of the roof—

Her arm was caught, and Ladybug sighed, turning to face Emerald Shell’s concerned frown.

“What’s up with you and the cat?” He asked without preamble. Ladybug groaned.

“We’re supposed to be patrolling, Shell,” she reminded him, moving to tug her arm out of his grasp, but Shell held fast.

“Too bad: whatever issues you’re having with Whiskers is affecting the team,” he pointed out, only letting go when Ladybug turned to fully face him, folding his arms across his chest as he frowned at her, clearly worried. “What’s up, LB?”

Ladybug closed her eyes, this next sigh one of defeat. As much as she hated to admit it…Shell had a point. It wasn’t very professional for her to be snapping at Chat Noir, especially when a new heroine had just been introduced to the team…

“I’m sorry,” she prefaced, chewing her bottom lip as she gave Shell an apologetic look. “I don’t mean to be so…” she paused, and then huffed, looking away. “We had a fight.”

“About?”

“Things.” At Shell’s dry look, Ladybug cringed and tried again. “He…well…he threw himself off the Eiffel Tower to save me when Shade attacked us last Friday. Twice.”

Shell’s eyes widened.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, shaking his head. “I mean, I know he likes to be your personal bulletproof vest and everything, but _damn._ ”

“That’s not funny,” Ladybug scolded Shell, though her voice was weak, chills rippling through her as she remembered that horrid night…the sight of Adrien falling away from her… “He almost died, Shell.”

“Oh…” Shell frowned. “What _did_ happen that night? You told me Pavone showed up and saved the day at the last minute…but you’ve been really vague about it. What happened that made it necessary for Pavone to show up? And if Chat didn’t die, how’d he get out of that situation? I didn’t see him anywhere when I showed up…”

That wasn’t true; though Shell wasn’t aware of it, Chat had been standing right next to Ladybug when he appeared…they both just happened to be in their civilian forms.

Ladybug inspected Shell, wondering if he found it strange at all that Adrien had been there that night. He hadn’t said anything about it so far…

Shell blinked at her searching look.

“What?” He wanted to know, fidgeting, as if he was self-conscious. Ladybug looked away from him, shaking her head.

“We’ll discuss everything once we’re all done with patrol. I promise,” she added, a somewhat vicious note in her tone, thinking of Chat and what he might say in a snarky fashion if he was there. Shell gave her an odd look, but mercifully, he let it go, sliding his shell off his back.

“If you say so, LB. So: patrol?”

“Patrol,” Ladybug agreed in relief, and the heroes took to the sky.

 

* * *

 

The angry buzzing in Chat Noir’s head refused to recede. Frankly, he was grateful for it—it was easier to be angry with her, because it distracted him from how much he missed her, and how much it hurt him to see her and remember all the awful things he had said to her—

Okay, he was getting off track again. Be angry, be angry…

“Damn, you’re tense as fuck. Trouble in paradise, Tiger?”

‘Tiger’? Well, he supposed it was better than ‘Whiskers’, but…

Chat glanced down from where he was perched on top of the streetlight. The newbie hung from the pole below him, her feet braced against it as her hand clutched said pole, so she was hanging from it at an angle, her free hand against her forehead as she theatrically searched for any disturbance in the city. She glanced up at him after a moment, looking curious as she smirked at him. For some reason, the look made him uneasy…

Chat’s claws flexed over his boots, and he looked away from Vixen.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” he said curtly, leaping from the streetlight and onto a nearby roof. Vixen easily matched his pace, looking effortless as she jumped from rooftop to rooftop, landing as lightly as…well, him, before pushing off to the next rooftop. When he paused again to inspect the area, she leaned over into his line of sight, fists on her hips, looking like her eyebrows were raised behind her mask.

“No? I shouldn’t be concerned that you and Ladybug are practically at each other’s throats for some mysterious reason?”

Chat shot a glare her way, but rather than deterring her…it seemed to _amuse_ her. She was an odd one, this Vixen…

“That’s our business,” he said roughly, getting to his feet. Vixen straightened with him, and he saw her shrug from his peripheral vision.

“All right, if that’s how you want it,” she replied airily. “I’m just saying, if you need to vent…well, I’m pretty good at keeping secrets.”

Oh she was, was she…?

Chat rolled his eyes her way, sizing her up. Again, she appeared amused, and grinned at him.

“Better keep your eyes to yourself, Cat Boy,” she teased him, “‘cause I’m spoken for.”

Chat snorted.

“Lovely as you are, Vixen, believe me when I say that I’m not looking to date anyone right now,” he said dryly.

This seemed to interest Vixen; she pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side, one of her fox ears twitching.

“You say that like you’re _not_ dating anyone _,_ ” she noted.

“You’re sharp,” Chat replied, his eyes scanning the city, though he wasn’t really seeing it.

Vixen fell silent. Chat let her be, and they managed to get halfway through their patrol before she spoke again.

“Did something happen?”

Chat glanced over at her, her curious look intriguing him.

“What makes you say that?” He wanted to know. For someone who knew nothing about the situation between him and Ladybug, she seemed awfully interested…

Vixen gave an idle shrug…but her hazel eyes were intent upon his face.

“Just that you and Ladybug seemed really close,” she said, but there was restraint in her words, and Chat got the oddest feeling that she was…holding herself back. It was strange. “I just always thought there was something more there.”

Chat laughed bitterly, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, you and half of Paris,” he remarked with a shake of his head, his good mood vanishing as quickly as it had come. He sighed, the sound pulled from his core. “Well, sorry to spoil whatever fanfiction you’ve been writing about us, Fox…but there’s nothing between me and Ladybug.”

Not anymore, anyway…

“You don’t sound happy about that.”

“What’re you, my therapist?” Chat snapped, annoyed that Vixen was right on the money, despite just meeting him.

And again, there was that mysterious smile, like she was…well, like she was a fox that had just found a way into the heavily guarded hen house. Chat’s sense of uneasiness increased.

“Just a concerned friend is all,” she said with another shrug, her hazel eyes lit up in amusement. Chat eyed her warily.

“It’s a little early to say we’re friends,” he chided her, moving to the edge of the roof to drop down into the alleyway. Vixen made to follow him, but her tail got snagged on the roof at the last minute and she wobbled. His chivalrous side taking over, Chat stepped forward, taking her arms and helping her down into the alleyway before she could fall. She blinked at him, and he let go, rubbing the back of his head. “Teammates, sure, but friends is…kind of jumping the gun, don’t you think?”

Vixen stared up at him, her expression blank. For a moment, Chat worried that he had offended her…but then she smiled, this gesture a lot more gentle than the sly grins that had passed her face so far.

“Teammates it is, then,” she allowed…but then her smile widened into a grin. “For now.”

Chat gave her an odd look.

“You’re a strange lady,” he remarked. This made Vixen laugh as she followed him further into the shadows of the alleyway.

“Yeah. But it works for me.”

“If you say so…” Chat glanced askance at her. “…So, how did you and Shell meet?”

“Oh, we’re old friends.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. We’re like this.” She crossed her fingers and grinned. Chat frowned, because that look…there was something in it that suggested he was missing something, something he should know…it was just a strange vibe he was getting off Vixen, and he had no idea what to make of it.

“…So do you know him out of costume, then?”

“Ah-ah, Meow Mix,” Vixen tutted, grinning at the aggrieved look Chat gave her—god, another Miraculous user with a penchant for stupid nicknames, just what he needed. “If you’re gonna keep secrets, then I’m allowed a few of my own, don’t you think?”

“I wasn’t aware that this was a competition,” he muttered. Vixen’s grin was bright in the darkness.

“Just think of it like a video game interaction: you must have at least level two of friendship with me before you can unlock my Chosen story, and level six for my tragic heroine backstory.”

“You have a tragic heroine backstory?”

Vixen laughed.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“…Touché.”

 

* * *

 

“Any problems?”

“Nope,” Vixen answered Ladybug, popping her lips on the ‘p’ as she and Chat Noir returned to the rooftop Team Miraculous ( _pfft_ ) had gathered upon at the start of the night. “All clear.”

Ladybug nodded, looking thoughtful. Vixen took the moment to inspect her best friend, inwardly tutting at the circles she could just make out under the spotted heroine’s eyes. Just how long had it been since she’d had a good night’s sleep? It was like she couldn’t even catch a break lately…

Her eyes caught Shell’s, and she imperceptibly nodded towards Ladybug. Shell’s gaze tightened, and a corner of his mouth turned down. Well, that wasn’t a good sign…

When Nino had decided tonight was as good a night as any for Vixen to be introduced to ( _pfft_ ) Team Miraculous, he firmly believed that they should hold off on secret identity introductions for a bit, at least until Ladybug was comfortable with Vixen’s presence on the team. And then, surprise! It turned out it was her best friend all along, what a coincidence!

Personally, Alya didn’t follow this logic—wouldn’t it be better for Ladybug to know that Vixen was _absolutely_ somebody she could trust? But because she knew how truly anxious Nino was about this introduction tonight…she had agreed to keep the secret for now, in order to test the waters and work out a new team dynamic. However, she didn’t think either of them had expected the tension rolling off of both Ladybug and Chat Noir in waves…though Vixen supposed this sort of explained why her best friend had been MIA for the past week…hmmm…

Deciding to touch base with her fiancé later, Vixen returned her attention to Ladybug.

“So, what’s the deal with this ‘Shade’ woman?” She wanted to know, frowning as her tongue twisted around the villain’s name, like it was a word that was barbed and coated with poison. “Do we know what she wants?”

“Yeah,” Chat spoke up, a flat look on his face, “Paris in flames, and our heads on a pike.”

“Ouch,” Vixen replied mildly, massaging her neck for added effect. “Any chance she’d be willing to settle for something a little less fatal?”

“Actually, it seems like there’s more to it,” Ladybug cut in, looking rather uncomfortable as she folded her arms around herself, like she was searching for warmth. Vixen noticed Chat twitch beside her; she glanced his way, but he was frowning at the ground, his hands flexing at his sides. Idly, she wondered if he was working to actively restrain himself from comforting Ladybug. The thought both amused and aggrieved her, because she was pretty sure her friends were being seven kinds of stupid right now…

“Did you find something out?” Shell asked Ladybug, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. Ladybug nodded, though she seemed unable to look at anyone directly as she shared her news.

“Yeah…there’s a good chance that Shade’s civilian identity…is Desiree Trace.”

…Okay: _that,_ Vixen had _not_ been expecting.

“ _What?!_ ” She, Emerald Shell and Chat Noir exclaimed together, their simultaneous cries of surprise causing Ladybug to cringe.

“Are you sure?” Shell demanded, his hand tightening on Ladybug’s shoulder. She nodded, her expression grim as she met his gaze.

“I did some digging the other night, and I found out some stuff—”

“ _Desiree?_ ” Vixen interrupted without meaning to, but she just couldn’t believe it— _Desiree_ was the bad guy? Sure, the way she’d looked at Alya the other day had been weird, yeah, but how did they jump from her making Alya slightly uncomfortable to her being the _villain?!_

Ladybug gave Vixen an odd look that she didn’t quite understand until she realized that Chat was giving her the same look.

“Do you…know Desiree?” He asked, his gaze intense, as if he could see through her mask to her face if he looked hard enough.

Vixen paused. Oh, right.

“I’m familiar with her,” she said, frowning as she chose her words carefully. “I wouldn’t actually say that I _know_ her…especially now that it seems she’s the bad guy. The fuck?”

“What did you find out?” Shell wanted to know, swiftly cutting in, much to Vixen’s relief. Ladybug let out a bone-weary sigh and gestured for them to sit. Vixen sank down across from the spotted heroine, suddenly nervous. This seemed like it was going to be a long story, if they all had to be sitting down for it…

Once everyone was settled, Ladybug began her story, mostly speaking to her knees as she told them about how her suspicions were aroused:

“I was out with…a friend,” Ladybug said carefully, with a quick glance to Vixen. Ah…trying not to say too much in front of the newbie, eh?

Vixen kept her smirk to herself as Ladybug continued:

“We happened to run into Desiree while we were out, and my friend made a comment about how Desiree was always wearing this silver ring…a ring I’d never seen before.”

Oh—the friend was _Alya._ This made Vixen frown—so Marinette really _hadn’t_ been kidding when she claimed to have no knowledge of the ring? And she had turned so pale after that… _ohhh._ Things about that afternoon were starting to make more sense…

“I tried to forget about it, but something about the whole situation was bugging me: why hadn’t I ever seen this ring before if she apparently wore it every time my friend had seen her?” Ladybug scowled. “And then, suddenly, I thought I saw it, in a picture taken a year ago, so I went to the internet and looked her up—mostly to prove that I wasn’t crazy—but then I saw it, there on her finger. It was a silver ring: an ouroboros. I had never seen her wear it in person…but it was on her hand in that picture on IFA’s website…”

“…But I saw her there, in the crowd when Shade attacked the fashion show,” Chat mused quietly, before he frowned. “But then, if Pavone was right, and we haven’t actually been seeing _her_ all this time…”

 Shell’s gaze went to him, narrowing.

“…Do you see a lot of Desiree, then?” He wanted to know. Vixen felt Chat tense beside her, and she held in her snort. These idiots…

“What happened next?” She prompted Ladybug, purposefully sparing Chat from answering, too eager to find out how Ladybug had reached her conclusion for her fiancé and her friend to have their identity epiphany right that second. Chat relaxed a little, but Shell was slow to remove his gaze from the cat-themed superhero, even as Ladybug continued her tale.

“So I kept searching, because…well, because I wanted to prove to myself that she had nothing to do with this. I didn’t want her to have anything to do with this…”

Ladybug looked miserable. Again, Chat twitched…but he made no move towards her. So it was up to Shell again to offer her physical comfort, patting her back consolingly. Vixen, since she sat across from Ladybug, couldn’t readily reach her…and so she had to suffice with tapping her foot against Ladybug’s. The spotted heroine gave her an odd look, and Vixen offered her an encouraging smile, one she hesitantly reciprocated. That was a little better.

“…At first, I found nothing,” Ladybug admitted, “but just as I was about to give up…I spotted a link to an old news article, from seven years ago. …Hawk Moth’s name was mentioned.”

Chat Noir went rigid, his tail standing straight up and his ears forward as he stared at Ladybug, looking utterly pale. On the pretext of shifting her weight, Vixen bumped his shoulder. His head whipped around to look at her, and she widened her eyes at him, as if to silently ask what his problem was. Her look seemed to remind him of his present company—which was her goal—and he made himself relax. He had still attracted Shell’s attention, however—the turtle-themed superhero was frowning at him. She hoped he would just decide that Chat was so on edge because of the trouble Hawk Moth had caused to his super-persona only…

But once again, it was up to her to prompt Ladybug, and so she did.

“Did the article mention Desiree, too?”

“No,” Ladybug replied with a shake of her head. “It mentioned someone else—an older man named Daniel Trace.”

Daniel Trace…

That name tickled something in the back of Vixen’s memory…

“Her father?” Shell inquired, pulling his gaze from Chat Noir to give Ladybug a questioning look.

“I can’t be sure…but I would say it’s a safe bet.” She sighed, chewing on her bottom lip. “He was an American reporter…and apparently…he had discovered Hawk Moth’s secret before anyone else, before Hawk Moth…died.”

Ladybug shifted uncomfortably. Vixen _hated_ the guilt in her best friend’s eyes, and wished she could express it…but since nobody but Shell knew her real identity, she had no choice but to keep her mouth shut. For now.

“…Wait,” Vixen began, the name of this mysterious reporter turning over and over in her head until she remembered something. “I’ve heard that name before…yeah! Didn’t he have journals or something dedicated to Hawk Moth?”

“He did,” Ladybug confirmed. This excited Vixen, and she leaned forward eagerly.

“Oh, but this is great!” She enthused, unable to comprehend why Ladybug continued to look so grim. “We can just ask him for help, then! He’ll be able to confirm whether or not Desiree’s actually related to him…or,” she slowed down, frowning at Ladybug’s expression, “is he back in America…?”

Ladybug’s voice was flat as she answered.

“…He’s dead, Vixen.”

“…Oh,” Vixen said, the grim mood beginning to affect her too; she frowned. “Well, that complicates things.”

“Have you seen Desiree at all since Friday night?” Shell asked. Ladybug shook her head.

“No. Neither has her girlfriend—I spoke to her just yesterday, and she told me she hasn’t seen Desiree since Friday, either.”

“She could be lying to protect her,” Chat pointed out, but Ladybug shook her head again.

“I really think she was being sincere.”

“Well, let’s not forget, Shade’s slippery,” Shell reminded them all with a frown. “And she has the power of illusion, so she could get away with a whole bunch of crap without us even knowing about it…”

Shell’s gaze shifted to Vixen and away quickly, as if looking at her was an involuntary reaction. Nevertheless, she saw, and she frowned at him.

“I _did_ say I was sorry,” she reminded him. As a matter of fact, she had spent the remainder of Friday night showing him exactly how sorry she was…

Shell seemed to remember; he coughed, glancing away as his expression grew embarrassed.

“I know,” he mumbled, his face growing ruddy, much to Vixen’s amusement. Ignoring the suspicious glances they received from Ladybug and Chat, Vixen plucked at the chain of her Fox Miraculous, frowning as she thought.

“…We’re kinda screwed here, aren’t we?” She said bluntly, glancing around at the dispirited expressions of ( _pfft_ ) Team Miraculous. “We might know who our villain is, but we don’t know _where_ she is, and she wants us all dead for some reason…”

Ladybug glanced at Chat, who caught her gaze. They shared a brief look before looking away again, and Vixen watched with interest.

“…Do you two know something we don’t?” She wanted to know, gesturing to Shell and herself, for he was looking like he was just as in the dark as she was, and not happy about it.

Ladybug shifted, moving to sit on her legs now, her hands resting on her thighs as she frowned thoughtfully…

“…Hawk Moth,” she said slowly, wincing over the name. “It all goes back to him. And the man that might be her father—apparently, Gabriel Agreste _knew_ about him, and…well, the article said that he was being bribed for his silence.”

“…Oh shit,” Vixen hissed, scowling. “Well, that’s not very good journalism.”

“…Maybe not,” Ladybug allowed, looking grave, “but he died due to an overdose. …I think his guilt might’ve caught up with him, in the end.”

Hmm…come to think of it…when Alya had believed her best friend and her boyfriend had been sneaking around with each other behind her back, Desiree had been there…and, if Alya was remembering correctly, she had admitted that her father had died some time ago…

“Hmm,” Shell hummed, folding his arms, his face screwed up in concentration. “Is the overdose thing true…? Or could it have been a cover-up?”

Oh, how interesting.

“You think Gabriel took out a hit on him?” She asked, giving the matter serious thought herself. It wasn’t like it wasn’t plausible…

Shell shrugged, though the gesture was stiff and not at all casual, contrasting from his usual shrugs.

“Just seems like something he might do. It’s not exactly out of character is it, with him being a supervillain…” Shell’s expression grew fierce. “Not to mention what a shitty father he was—”

Chat’s head snapped up from where he had been glowering at the roof, his hands clenched into fists.

“What do you know about what kind of father he was?” He wanted to know, not quite angry, but there was still conflict in his voice as he stared at Shell, who blinked in surprise and promptly grew embarrassed.

“Oh,” he mumbled, clearing his throat. “Well, uh, er—”

“I _really_ don’t think _M._ Agreste had anything to do with _M._ Trace’s demise,” Ladybug cut in, sounding all kinds of exhausted as she closed her eyes and sighed, rubbing at her temples. “At least, not directly. He was bribing _M._ Trace—as long as he was keeping his silence, why would _M._ Agreste resort to killing him?”

“Bankruptcy?” Vixen suggested.

“Doubtful,” Chat snorted. Vixen nodded to his point—he would know better than anyone, wouldn’t he?

“Well, what if he found out that _M._ Trace decided that he didn’t want to keep such a big secret anymore?” Shell reasoned.

“That would incriminate him, too, though,” Vixen pointed out. “Taking bribes doesn’t exactly make him innocent. He’d be arrested for aiding and abetting a supervillain, and I’m just guessing here, but I’m pretty sure a light slap on the wrist wouldn’t be the punishment for that, even if _M._ Trace was a foreigner.”

“Maybe he decided he wanted to do the right thing in the end?” Shell pressed. Ladybug sighed.

“However his death came about isn’t the issue here,” she reminded the team. “It only serves as a possible motive…something Shade all but confirmed to me when I confronted her with it.”

“When did you do that?” Chat asked, not quite looking at her. Ladybug bit her lip, staring at her knees as she answered him.

“Back before the mob attacked us…I asked her whether or not she had anything to ‘report’ on, remember…?”

This made Chat look at her, and Vixen noted his surprise with a certain degree of amusement.

“…You confronted the villain with a _pun_?” He asked, sounding awed. Ladybug offered him a weak smile.

“It seemed like the only way to confront her without saying too much at the same time,” she admitted. Chat snorted, and the two appeared to share a moment…but all too soon, the moment shattered, as they both seemed to recall that they currently weren’t on good terms. As they looked away from each other again, varying expressions of hurt on their faces, Vixen scowled at the pair of them. What the hell was their problem? Apparently, according to Chat, they weren’t together anymore…but they clearly still _wanted_ to be together…so what were the hang-ups? And were they really worth all this misery they seemed to be putting themselves and each other through…?

Breathing through her nose, Vixen got to her feet.

“I gotta go,” she reported in response to the curious looks she received from the rest of the team. “It’s been fun, guys, but there’s a term paper I _really_ need to finish if I want to graduate on time…so if there’s nothing else…?”

“…No,” Ladybug decided, getting to her feet as well with a wry look. “I have a couple papers of my own I should really finish sooner rather than later.”

Vixen gave a nod…and then reached forward, gripping Ladybug’s shoulder. This appeared to surprise her; her bluebell eyes widened, and Vixen let herself smile.

“Keep your head up, Lady Luck,” she encouraged, “I know things look rough right now…but you’re not as alone as you might think.” She dropped her hand, turning to the side as she saluted the speechless spotted heroine. “Keep me in the loop, ‘kay? If there’s anything I need to know, just give the message to Shell—he’ll pass it along.”

She sent a wink Shell’s way, and he gave her a particular look, apparently unappreciative of the teasing.

“Sure…” Ladybug replied, and Vixen bit back a grin at the suspicious look she cast Shell. With a final word of farewell, she leapt into the air, darting from rooftop to rooftop to make her way home.

Well…her first night out with Team Miraculous ( _PFFFT_ ) had been both enlightening…and uneventful. Not that she was complaining—after the breakneck pace AVA usually went about things, this quiet night was a welcome relief. The important thing was that she had met the team, and they were now aware of her. Mission complete.

Her next mission: figure out if Marinette and Adrien had _really_ broken up, why, and assess whether or not she had to break a certain blonde ex-model’s kneecaps, friend/teammate or not…

After Vixen’s departure, an awkward silence settled upon the remaining members of Team Miraculous.

Ladybug glanced at Emerald Shell, but he was staring after where Vixen disappeared, rubbing the back of his hooded head. She looked at Chat Noir next, but he was looking away from her too, his shoulders rigid, cat ears drooping.

Ladybug sighed. She was so very tired…

“I’m going home,” she announced, not waiting for a response from the men in her midst before she jumped down from the roof of the building. Once her feet had touched down safely, on the pavement, she released her transformation.

Abruptly, a cacophony of disbelief exploded behind her.

“ _What are you doing?!_ ”

Marinette whipped around in surprise, taking a startled step back when both Emerald Shell and Chat Noir landed behind her, gaping at her as if she had lost her mind.

“What?” She wanted to know, staring at the two of them, who continued to look at _her_ in a horrified way. What the hell was their problem, all of a sudden?

“You just—you just—!” Shell seemed beyond words; he gestured furiously through the air at Marinette, as if she should understand what he meant from said gesturing.

“In front of—are you—?!” Chat appeared to be struck with the same speechlessness as Shell; he gawked at Marinette, clawed hands open in a “why?!” gesture. As Marinette’s gaze bounced in between the baffled heroes before her, something in her tired mind clicked, and she realized what the problem was.

And she let out a heavy sigh.

“Goddamn it,” she mumbled to herself, briefly pinching the bridge of her nose before she opened her eyes again to glare at her teammates. “Will you two _calm the hell down?_ There’s no one else here, and you _both_ know my civilian identity. Hell, you know _each other’s_ civilian identities, even!”

This was news to Chat Noir and Emerald Shell, naturally: they looked at each other, surprise and suspicion laced through their expressions.

“We…do?” Shell wanted to check, casting Marinette an uncertain look.

“ _Yes,_ ” Marinette insisted, folding her arms across her chest as she gave them an exasperated look. “If you want to be sure, just de-transform and see for yourselves.”

She was _so_ tired of the tip-toeing at this point—what good was it to keep all these secrets if they were just going to weigh her down and drain her of her energy? No, she was done with this. The secrets were part of the reason she was so miserable lately…the other part being the blonde cat man standing just a step or two away from her, his stubbornness and pride apparently as formidable as hers, given that he hadn’t bothered calling or texting her since Friday night…

Said cat man was looking at Shell now, searching the other man’s face, which was currently blank as he stared back at Chat. In the midst of the stand-off, Marinette sighed and tapped her foot. She was _this_ close to saying ‘fuck it’ and heading home, leaving the friends to their own devices—

“Hang on,” Shell forestalled her, noticing her impatience. He took a deep, cleansing breath…and then met Chat Noir’s gaze. “…Ready to put our newfound trust in each other to the test?”

“No,” Chat replied, but then he rolled his shoulders and sighed. “Let’s do it anyway.”

“On three?”

Chat nodded, and Shell glanced at Marinette, who understood that he wanted her to perform the countdown. Barely suppressing an eye roll, she began.

“One…”

Chat made himself relax, even though restlessness still rippled through his body.

“Two…”

Shell touched his bracelet, as if the weight of jade would give him courage.

“ _Three._ ”

“Plagg—”

“Wayzz—”

“ _Revert me_ ,” the fire-forged teammates said together. In a flash of green and black sparks, their transformations broke…

They both had their eyes shut tight.

Marinette made an exasperated noise.

“ _Guys,_ ” she insisted, tapping her foot again.

At her insistence, Adrien and Nino slowly opened their eyes…

The minute green locked with gold, there was nothing but stunned silence.

That is, until—

“…What the _fuck?!_ ” Nino exclaimed as Adrien gaped at him in muted shock. If Marinette were in a better mood, she would find their reactions almost comical…hell, she _still_ found it a little funny.

“There,” she said, turning on her heel. “Now you know, and I’m going home. Bye.”

“Wait a goddamn minute!” Nino called after her, and she turned back to him, eyebrows raised. “You—Marinette—how long have you known about this?!”

Marinette huffed. What she wouldn’t give for a mug of hot chocolate with a shot of vodka right about now…

“Fine: I found out Adrien was Chat Noir for sure the day of Desiree’s fashion competition. Adrien, Nino practically _told_ me he was Emerald Shell the night he debuted as a superhero. There—it’s all out in the open. Now you two work it out between yourselves, because I am _going to bed._ ”

Marinette stomped off, and this time, no one called her back…probably because it could not be clearer that she was in a terrible mood. As she stomped her way through the street, something nudged her cheek. She turned, blinking at Tikki, who was regarding her with a tiny little frown.

Marinette blinked, surprised at the unusual negativity in her kwami’s expression. She couldn’t be sure, but…it kind of felt like…

Marinette slowed to a stop, regarding the tiny god with some surprise.

“…Tikki…are you mad at me…?” she asked, the words strange, because she could not recall a time, after all these years, where Tikki was legitimately angry at her _ever._

Tikki took her time answering, which only served to make Marinette anxious.

“…I’m not mad,” the kwami said slowly, as if she decided just now that she didn’t want to be angry with her Chosen. “But I am worried…and disappointed.”

Oh no. The disappointment was almost _worse_ than the anger of a tiny god. Marinette paused, biting her lip as she stared down at her kwami. What had she done to disappoint her?

“Did you have to push Nino and Adrien like that?” Tikki asked, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. “What if they weren’t ready to know about each other yet?”

Marinette paused. Oh…admittedly, she hadn’t even thought about it…

“W-well…they probably would’ve done it sooner rather than later,” Marinette supposed, though she chewed her lip in doubt. “They’ve been suspicious of each other for a while—”

“Be that as it may,” Tikki interrupted with a shake of her head, “this really should have been done in their own time, Marinette. You made Adrien wait until _you_ were ready to discuss everything. So why was it okay for you to force _them_ into this situation? You _do_ realize this could affect their friendship negatively, don’t you?”

Marinette frowned. Now that was just unfair…

“They should know,” she insisted. “It’ll make us stronger as a team—”

“Marinette,” Tikki cut across her again, the disappointment in her indigo eyes increasing, “that’s a lie.”

“No it isn’t!” Marinette insisted, appalled that Tikki believed that she would _ever_ lie to her. Didn’t Tikki know her better than that?

“Yes, it is,” Tikki maintained, calm despite the unpleasant conversation. “You didn’t do it because you wanted them to know about each other. You did it because you wanted to hurt Adrien.”

Marinette felt her jaw drop; for a moment, she was speechless.

“I don’t…that wasn’t…” She spluttered, but there were no words to express her shock and discomfort at such words…because they were _true._ Marinette didn’t want to admit it, not even to herself, but in her heart of hearts, deep within herself…she was hurting. And she was _angry._ And that angry part of her, no matter how much she tried to deny it, wanted blood and suffering. Misery _did_ like its company…

When she could say nothing to refute Tikki’s assertion, the kwami regarded her sadly.

“I know you’re upset with Adrien right now. I know, Marinette. But did he really deserve what you just did? Did _Nino_ deserve it?”

Nino…

Oh, poor Nino. He put up with so much from her, and yet…

Marinette let out a slow breath.

Tikki was right—she hadn’t acted fairly. She had just jeopardized the friendship and partnership between her two teammates for selfish reasons, and if the fallout was catastrophic…it would be all her fault. She really had no excuse in this situation.

The guilt and anguish must have been clear in her eyes; Tikki gave a sigh, patting Marinette’s cheek.

“I know you’re hurting, Marinette,” she said softly, “but it’s important now, more than ever, that Team Miraculous work together. You may be Ladybug…but you shouldn’t have to save Paris on your own.”

Marinette sighed again, feeling her strength sap from her with the exhalation of air. She was so, so, _so_ tired…

“Let’s get you back home,” Tikki decided, cottoning onto the fact that Marinette was basically dead on her feet. She zoomed into her Chosen’s pocket, still regarding Marinette with some concern. “We’ll figure out what to do about Adrien and Nino once you’ve gotten some sleep.”

“…Thank you, Tikki,” Marinette said eventually, a helpless smile crossing her face. Tikki was so important in her life, for more than Ladybug reasons—only a true friend would be that honest with Marinette, would make her look at her actions and help her realize when she was in the wrong. Normally, this was Alya’s role…but since Marinette couldn’t exactly _share_ any of this with her best friend…

Marinette sighed again, ordering her tired feet to carry her towards home. In any case, it was almost a relief that she couldn’t talk about any of this with Alya—at least her best friend’s life remained uncomplicated by superhero shenanigans.

 

* * *

 

Just when did Nino’s life get this complicated?

Oh yeah—Pavone had fucked around and Chosen _him_ for the Turtle Miraculous. Right.

Now he was sitting here at this huge ass table in Adrien’s dining room, downing alcohol in an attempt to reconcile the fact that his best friend was also an antihero-turned-crime-fighting-teammate, whom he had only just recently learned to trust.

This situation was all kinds of fucked up…

…And yet, so many things made _so_ much sense now.

Adrien’s kwami— _Adrien’s kwami_ —had been sitting on the table, watching them, as if he expected a fight to break out, before Wayzz had the good sense and grace to drag him into another room. So now it was just him and Adrien, the weight of this particular identity reveal weighing heavily upon the both of them.

Adrien sat beside him, completely silent. His shoulders were hunched, and he was only staring down at his glass, as if he was wishing it was big enough to drown himself. From the corner of his eye, Nino could see him dart occasional glances to him, tension rolling off him in waves. After his third glass of gin, Nino had had enough.

“ _Stop_ it,” he insisted, giving his best friend a pained look. “You look like I’m about to slam your head into this table. Just…stop it, dude, all right?”

Adrien slumped over, the action making him look smaller.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, and Nino sighed, setting his empty glass down on the table.

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” he insisted, turning to face his best friend properly for the first time since they had arrived at his house. “I want you to be honest—you’re pissed at me, right?”

This appeared to surprise Adrien; he blinked at Nino, nonplussed.

“Why would I be mad at you?” He wanted to know, tilting his head to the side. Nino echoed the movement, frowning at Adrien. He wasn’t serious, was he?

“I’m Emerald Shell,” he said, as if Adrien needed reminding. “Dude, I…I’ve been treating you like _shit._ ”

“It wasn’t like I didn’t deserve it,” Adrien mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced away. “I did some really terrible things…”

Nino went silent. That’s right…the cat bastard that had run around, trying to attack akumatized victims, playing his hand in founding a hate group of victim blamers, turning his back on Ladybug and the people who once thought he was a hero…that had been _Adrien_ this whole time.

His best friend, Adrien Agreste, whom Nino _knew_ had problems, but had had no clue that he was _this_ fucked up…

Nino refilled his glass with the half-empty bottle of gin sitting between them on the table, letting the liquid burn through him as he drank. Goddamn it. Son of a _bitch_ , this situation was awful.

And Marinette had known all this time, only to drop it on them so suddenly…

“Damn it, Dots,” Nino grumbled, scowling. He knew she was struggling with some stuff, but still—

“Marinette…she knew this whole time,” Adrien muttered, echoing Nino’s disgruntled thoughts. Nino turned back to him, watching the way Adrien’s face transformed into an expression of misery. Whoa…what happened to make him look like _that_?

 _“We had a fight,”_ Ladybug’s voice reminded him, and Nino huffed. Right—the dynamic duo of the team weren’t speaking to each other, apparently. And now that he knew that Adrien was Chat Noir…

Nino tipped his glass to his lips again, swallowing loudly in the silence.

“Yeah,” he acknowledged. The silence settled between them once again.

“…When did you find out?” Adrien asked after a long stretch of not speaking. Nino slid his gaze Adrien’s way, lifting an eyebrow.

“Find out what?” Apparently, there were a _lot_ of secrets being kept around here. Adrien was going to have to be more specific…

Adrien leaned over with a huff, ruffling his hair as he rested his head against his arm, his silver ring glinting in the soft light of the dining room.

“…That Marinette was Ladybug,” he clarified. Nino eyed him warily.

“…I don’t think you actually want to know,” he said honestly. Adrien’s gaze switched to him, his eyes tight.

“Tell me anyway,” he insisted. Nino frowned, taking another sip of gin.

…Well…he supposed, if everything was being laid out in the open tonight…

“…She told me the day after my first night out as Emerald Shell,” he confessed. He watched carefully as Adrien seemed to take that in, process it…

And then he swore, sitting up and grasping his glass, downing the gin at once. Nino watched, worried and impressed as Adrien only grimaced. He expected the wine-lover to sputter and cough around such a strong drink, but apparently Adrien could hold his liquor better than Nino thought.

“She wouldn’t even tell me when we were kids,” Adrien hissed, refilling his glass and repeating the draining process. “I was her partner first—I’ve known her the longest—and she _wouldn’t_ _tell me_. She never really trusted me at _all._ ”

Uh-oh. Nino suspected Adrien wouldn’t like hearing about Marinette’s reveal to him, but his reaction was a little strong…

“To be fair,” he prefaced, wanting to defend Marinette, despite his current irritation with her, “she only told me so fast because I revealed myself first. If she didn’t know it was me, I don’t think she would’ve—”

“She’s known it was me since Valentine’s Day,” Adrien cut in bitterly, pouring the last of the gin into his glass and swallowing a hearty amount, growling under his breath. “But she didn’t want to talk about it. She _refused_ to talk about it until after we almost _died_ Friday night—”

“Whoa, _what?_ ” Nino cut in, because Adrien wasn’t just gonna speed past that like he hadn’t just dropped a _huge fucking bombshell._ “What do you mean, ‘we’? You _and_ Marinette almost died Friday night?!” Sure, Ladybug had told him that Chat Noir had thrown himself in harm’s way for her, again, _twice—oh god, holy shit, ADRIEN had almost died twice that night—_ but she had _never_ let on that things had come _that_ fucking close—

Adrien smiled sardonically.

“Oh, she didn’t tell you? Big surprise.” He laughed, the sound bitter and humorless, and frankly concerning. “But yeah, our transformations were about to reverse, and Shade basically had us backed up against a wall—or dangling off the tower—and I knew we’d both fall if I didn’t let go—”

“ _Dude,_ ” Nino interrupted again, gaping at Adrien in horror. “Are you _crazy?_ ”

Adrien scowled so deeply that Nino lifted his hands in surrender. While he knew that Adrien wouldn’t actually move to harm him…he still remembered that time, so long ago, where he had said something that was over the line…the look on Adrien’s face when he’d lunged at him…

Some of his apprehension must have registered on his face; Adrien’s expression softened, and he looked away, at his half-empty glass.

“…I didn’t want her to die,” he said, frustration coloring his tone. He ruffled his hair again, and abruptly, Nino realized he was looking at _Chat Noir_ , gaining insight into the moment he realized that, in order for Ladybug— _Marinette_ —to live… _he_ had to die.

Immediately, Nino’s mind jumped to Alya, of the constant danger she had put herself in when she was just a reporter, following Ladybug around during akuma attacks, disregarding her own safety for the story. She always took years off his life when she did this, and he had always found himself wishing that there was a way to convey to her just how much he didn’t want anything to happen to her, that he wanted so desperately for her to live…

If he had been in Adrien’s—Chat’s—position—if it had been him and Alya dangling from the tower, and Nino could see no other way to make sure she lived other than to let go…

Would he really have done anything different…?

Nino knew the answer, and it made it easier to sympathize with Adrien’s insanity.

“Okay, so I’m missing a lot of the story,” he acknowledged, frowning. “Where does Pavone come into all this?”

Adrien huffed.

“Yeah, him,” he muttered, taking a moment to drain the rest of his glass before he spoke again. “So we’re both falling through the air, because _of course_ Ladybug can’t let me show her up…and at the very last minute, Pavone swooped in and saved the day, driving Shade away…or what we _thought_ was Shade in body…and helping the zombie citizens regain their minds. And then he flew off afterwards, just like that.”

Adrien rubbed at his eyes, and Nino glanced at his watch, cringing at the late hour. He was going to be dead on his feet tomorrow…but there was still so much to hash out…

“‘Nette says you guys fought, too…” Nino dared to mention, watching Adrien carefully. It might be none of his business, but now that he knew what he knew…it seemed kind of important to mention it, since this fight affected Marinette and Adrien both in their personal and their superhero lives.

Again, Adrien smiled bitterly. It hurt Nino to see such a sight on his best friend, when it seemed like he had been so happy and in love just a few days ago…

“Yeah…” Adrien lifted his glass again, apparently forgetting it was empty until ice hit him in the nose. His sympathy growing, Nino passed his own half full glass over to Adrien, who sent him a grateful look as he drained that one, too. There was a long pause.

“…We broke up,” Adrien admitted, the confession weighing down his voice.

Nino stared.

Shit…he knew things were bad, but he hadn’t thought they were _this_ bad…

“…You wanna tell me why?” he ventured carefully, completely aware that he was tip-toeing into a potential mine field, but his concern for his friend as well as his curiosity overruled his fear.

Adrien shifted his glass, watching the ice clink together, looking thoroughly dejected.

“Because I’m Chat Noir…and she doesn’t trust me,” he said, and the sheer _heartbreak_ in his voice was enough to make Nino reach over, sliding an arm around Adrien’s shoulders. He didn’t know what to say to make it better—while _he_ didn’t believe that Marinette didn’t trust Adrien, Nino also knew that he hadn’t been there for the fight, and therefore didn’t know what was said between Adrien and Marinette to cause the break up in the first place. So, while he wanted to comfort his best friend—and _of course_ he was still his best friend, cat costume or not—no words readily came to mind.

And Nino so desperately wanted to have the words, especially when Adrien leaned over, closing in on himself, a ragged breath ripping through him as tears began to slide down his face, tears that seemed like he’d been holding them back for much too long.

“…It hurts…” he whispered, sounding broken, lost. In that moment, Nino decided, to _hell_ with words; his best friend needed to be held. And that’s exactly what he did, abandoning his chair to kneel down next to Adrien, sliding his arms around his weary friend’s shaking frame, letting him cling to him, seeking the only comfort Nino had to give.

To his immense relief, it seemed to be enough for now—Adrien buried his face in Nino’s shoulder and sobbed, and though Nino hated to hear such miserable sounds from someone he cared about, he also recognized that Adrien needed this, needed to release all this pent up emotion inside, because bottling it up would only fuck him up even _more_ , and he had been working so hard to redeem himself for so long…

“I’ve got you, dude,” he muttered when Adrien’s sobs quieted, though he still wept, “I’m here.”

Adrien’s grip on Nino tightened.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice muffled by Nino’s shirt. Nino smiled to himself, patting Adrien’s back.

As unpleasant as it had been to receive such an identity shock—and though it might take some time for him to reconcile the identity of Chat Noir with his best friend—the fact still remained that, when Adrien needed him, Nino would always have his back.

There wasn’t a revelation strong enough that would ever stop that from being true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Stares at the teammate bonding* ...
> 
> I was SO tempted to turn this into an OT4 fic. You guys have no idea.
> 
> So, things are kind of Not Good right now, but at least they can't get any worse, right?
> 
> :D
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	35. Amends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BTU-VERSARY!!!
> 
> That's right: a year ago today, THIS MONSTER came into being. And we're celebrating that with a HUGE FUCKING CHAPTER. Thankfully, it's the second to last one I have to worry about, so I'm happy. I'M ALMOST FREE.
> 
> ...Oh, right, uh. I should probably warn y'all before you dive in: some NSFW happens at the end of the chapter. Some of you have expressed your concerns to me in this regard, so I've made it easy for you to skip it: just count the page breaks. Those wishing to avoid the smut can exit after the fifth page break; the chapter ends for you pure souls at that point.
> 
> The rest of you sinners feel free to read on. XP
> 
> Either way, hope you enjoy! <3
> 
> ~Reyna

The forlorn violin sang through the speakers, contributing to the gloomy, depressing atmosphere in the room. Adrien almost felt bad—his mood was stormy enough to avoid such melodramatics, wasn’t it? But if the music, depressing thought it might be, helped him…

Ivan finally looked up from his desk, his frown one of disquiet.

“Are you…sure you don’t want to talk about it?” He asked carefully; it was apparent that he did not want to push Adrien on the subject before he was ready to talk about it, but Adrien could clearly see that his therapist—his friend—was worried about him.

It probably didn’t help that today’s playlist was labeled ‘Heartbreak’…

Plagg snorted from his position on the corner of Ivan’s desk, gloating over his cheese pile. Adrien closed his eyes, waiting for the antagonistic remarks from his merciless kwami…but it appeared the finicky creature was enjoying his camembert too much to actually pay Adrien’s pouting any attention. Honestly, Adrien didn’t know what was worse—the snide remarks, or the fact that Plagg seemed to think he wasn’t even worth making fun of in this moment.

That made Adrien sit up from the _chaise longue,_ sighing from his soul.

If Plagg wasn’t even bothering to kick him while was down, he must _really_ be in bad shape, wasn’t he…?

“Marinette and I broke up,” he made himself say; the words were bile in his mouth, and so he spit them out as quickly as possible. He didn’t dare to look over, but he could still feel the gaze of his therapist, probably surprised and very much concerned.

“Oh…I’m sorry to hear that, Adrien.” He heard Ivan shift in his seat. “Erm…if you need some time to yourself this morning—”

“It’s fine,” Adrien cut across him, turning to give Ivan a forlorn smile. “This is the one place I can escape to when I want to avoid the outside world…you’re not kicking me out, are you?”

“Of course not,” Ivan denied, frowning at the thought. “I would never do that.”

Adrien chuckled to himself, slumping against the _chaise_ once more.

“It was a joke, Ivan,” he assured his therapist. “I know you wouldn’t actually do that…otherwise you’d be a lousy friend, and a terrible therapist.”

Silence fell in the office, save for the wailing of the sad violin.

“I still love her,” Adrien said softly, mostly to himself. His eyes tightened at that. “She hurt me—she doesn’t trust me—but I still love her.” He turned his head, eyes meeting Ivan’s desperate for reassurance. “…Does that make me a masochist?”

Ivan offered him a sad smile.

“No. It’s just fact that love doesn’t always adhere to reason, if ever.”

“Great,” Adrien grumbled, sighing as he turned to stare at the ceiling again, ruffling his hair with a frustrated hand. “Wasn’t enough that I wasted eight years of my life in love with her already; now I’m probably doomed to miss her for the rest of it.” He scowled. “Either Fate has a bone to pick with me, or this life is me repaying some karmic debt from the past.”

“You sure complain a lot for a rich boy,” Plagg noted, and Adrien let out a sharp breath.

“It’s not like I’m bitching about a yacht I just bought having a slight dent in the side,” he pointed out, sitting back up to glare properly at his kwami. “I just had my heart broken, _again_ , by the one person I thought I could trust more than anyone—would it _kill_ you to have a little sympathy? What if it was you and Tikki in this situation?”

Ivan raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the suddenly clam-like kwami on his desk.

“You have a girlfriend, Plagg?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Plagg denied petulantly with a roll of his green eyes. “You humans and your _labels._ ”

“Okay, your other half, your partner, _whatever,_ ” Adrien said, insisting upon his point. “If Tikki told you she never wanted to see you again, what would you do?”

Plagg’s expression went flat.

“I often go centuries without seeing Tikki,” he replied, and Adrien blinked. “Depending on how…difficult it is for our Chosens to work together, sometimes I even go lifetimes without seeing her.” His eyelids lowered, judgement in his gaze. “Perhaps you should keep in mind just how old I am before you go about trying to make me sympathize with you, kid.”

Adrien scowled. Well, that had backfired spectacularly…but even so, he couldn’t help but feel a grudging respect for Plagg. Sure, he made it sound like it was a non-issue, but how hard it must be, to be kept apart from your other half due to the whims of another…

Huh. Maybe _that’s_ why Plagg was quieter than usual; maybe he was missing Tikki after only getting to see her for a brief time just recently…or maybe he was resentful of Adrien for ruining that for him, and was giving him the silent treatment. It was kind of hard to tell with Plagg: though the kwami acted like he was only about one thing—cheese—Adrien had learned through years of dealing with him that Plagg tended to keep his real feelings close to his chest, only expressing them when it was absolutely necessary, preferring to taunt and tease his way out of situations more often than not. In a way, he and Adrien—the younger, naïve Adrien—were a lot alike. He was a constant pain in Adrien’s ass, sure…but damn it if he didn’t help Adrien get better at expressing himself over the years.

Adrien glanced away from his kwami to find Ivan frowning at him, his brow puckering in concern.

“…Marinette told you she never wanted to see you again?” He asked, conflict in his tone, like he couldn’t believe Marinette would say something like that.

Adrien snorted without humor.

“No, she didn’t say that,” Adrien grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared down at his lap. “Not like she could, anyway, since…well, let’s just say, even if she _did_ say that, it would be kind of impossible for her to avoid me from then on.”

Adrien glanced up, giving Ivan a significant look, and understanding dawned in his gaze.

“Ah,” he said delicately as he carefully averted his eyes from the elephant in the room. “I see.” He twiddled his thumbs for a moment, appearing deep in thought. “…May I ask some questions about it?”

“Sure,” Adrien allowed, inwardly amused at how polite Ivan was. If it was Alya, she’d probably tie him to a chair and resort to head games and torture in the course of her interrogation…but perhaps his brain was merely exaggerating…

Suddenly, Adrien pictured Alya’s face, the expression she would make if/when she found out that he and Marinette had broken up…and he shuddered. Perhaps not.

“Well,” Ivan began, pulling Adrien out of terrifying thoughts of his imminent demise, “earlier, you said that you and Marinette had broken up…but then you said that _she_ broke _your_ heart.” Ivan tilted his head thoughtfully, inspecting Adrien. “I was just wondering…was it a mutual break-up?”

Adrien stared at Ivan bleakly. Did it matter?

“…Not exactly,” he endeavored to answer anyway, since he knew Ivan wouldn’t judge him for anything he said. “And it wasn’t like we actually _said_ we were breaking up…but the way we left things kind of implied it.” Adrien released a sigh, letting his head fall into a hand. “We said such horrible things to each other…”

“It’s easy to want to say terrible things when you’re angry and wanting to hurt someone,” Ivan reasoned, and Adrien couldn’t decide if it was good or bad that Ivan seemed to be sympathizing with him. He glanced up with a cringe.

“No, Ivan, you don’t understand. I…I called her a _murderer._ ”

This made Ivan pause, his eyes widening slightly.

“…Oh,” he said after a moment, and again, Adrien was struck by the simplicity of his therapist expressing his surprise. “Well, that’s…quite a hurtful thing to say, yes.”

He glanced away, frowning thoughtfully again. Adrien wondered if he was thinking about asking if Adrien’s accusation of Marinette was actually true.

“I didn’t mean it,” he blurted out. Ivan’s gaze was drawn back to him.

“…Why would you say it if you didn’t mean it?” He asked.

Adrien paused.

“…Because I was angry…?”

Hmm. Why did that feel like a lie? Especially since Ivan agreed that it was easier to say awful things when one was upset?

As if he could read his mind—or perhaps Adrien’s feelings were clear by the look on his face, as always—Ivan gave him a wry smile.

“I said that it was easier to say terrible things when you’re angry, not false things,” he clarified. Adrien felt shame crawl up his back, and he hung his head.

So, on some level…he meant it when he called Marinette a murderer.

That was…well, there were no words that did justice to how truly terrible that was.

“I forgave her,” he whispered to his knees, shaking his head in hopes to rid himself of the guilt that still plagued him, even now. “I already forgave her…so why? Why did I say that…?”

It was only when Adrien looked to Ivan for help that his therapist actually endeavored to answer his desperate question…and even before that, he shrugged.

“It might have just been something you needed to get out, forgiven or not,” he reasoned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Or it could be that you wanted to say something to Marinette that would hurt her worse than the things she was saying to you. Or maybe you _haven’t_ actually forgiven her; you just _want_ to believe you have so you can finally move past it. Or—”

“Ivan, please,” Adrien interrupted, holing up a hand with a pleading look, “that’s a bit too many “what ifs” for me to handle right now.”

“Sorry,” Ivan apologized with a slight smile. “But only you really know why you said it, Adrien. I can only take you so far in trying to find your answer.”

Adrien sighed. So this was one of those soul-searches he had to embark on his own, huh? He hated those, they were hard…but he couldn’t begrudge Ivan for his honesty. After all, his therapist couldn’t tell him how to feel, and despite his griping, Adrien preferred it that way.

After a minute or two, Ivan coughed awkwardly.

“Erm…this may be bad timing, but…since your session’s up for today…I, uh, have something for you, Adrien…”

Adrien glanced up in mild surprise.

“For me?”

Ivan nodded. Cautiously, like he was expecting some kind of trick, Adrien got up from his sulking couch and approached Ivan, who was holding out something white and lacy…that looked distinctively like—

“Oh,” Adrien said softly, after a quick glance of the contents in the envelope confirmed that this was exactly what he thought it was. “I…thank you, Ivan. I…honestly wasn’t expecting to be invited.”

“I’m so sorry that it’s last minute,” Ivan apologized profusely, rubbing the side of his neck with a cringe. “I would’ve preferred to invite you much earlier, but Myléne was very strict about the guest list…but now that Alix won’t be able to make it…”

Adrien frowned at that. The leader of Akumatized Victims Anonymous was lying invalid in a hospital bed, while he, Chat Noir, their sworn enemy, was invited to a happy occasion in her place. It seemed wrong, somehow…

Ivan, ever adept at reading Adrien’s emotions, gave him an assuring smile.

“You’re not obligated to come, of course,” he made sure to let Adrien know. “I realize that I’m inviting you literally at the last minute, since the wedding is on Saturday, so if you have other plans—”

“Oh no, I’m available,” Adrien confirmed, lowering the invitation and giving Ivan a grimace. “I…just don’t know if I’ll be in the right mental state to help you and Myléne celebrate your love for each other…”

Again, Ivan frowned in concern.

“You’re under no obligation to come,” he reminded Adrien once more, folding his large hands on top of his desk. “And if you need a day or two to decide, that’s fine. It’s entirely up to you, Adrien.”

Adrien smiled faintly, appreciative of this.

“Thanks, Ivan. I’ll RSVP as soon as I decide.”

Adrien left Ivan’s office and got into his car, staring down at the lacy envelope in his possession. Any other time, he would be thrilled at the chance of being able to see one of his good friends exchange vows with his loved one up close. But at the moment, with his own love life in shambles…would he really be able to be happy for people whose relationship seemed so solid and uncomplicated…?

He felt Plagg’s eyes on him, but ignored him, knowing it was only a matter of time before his kwami said something snarky…

Sure enough, Plagg intruded upon his vision just a second later, giving him his famous deadpan stare.

“Not everything is about you, Adrien,” he drawled in that annoying ‘I know best’ voice he was so skilled at. “I know for a fact that you’re not doing anything Saturday, and if you weren’t too busy _pouting_ right now, you’d jump at the chance of going to a wedding. Are you seriously going to let your personal problems keep you from being happy for your friend? A friend who has done a significant amount for your mental state, I might add?”

…He had a point, of course. Damn it.

“…You know there probably won’t be piles of camembert at the reception,” Adrien said shrewdly, his suspicions confirmed when Plagg’s face fell before he could get himself together, his kitty nose in the air.

“Not everything is about camembert either,” he stated sagely, ignoring the obligatory disbelieving look Adrien gave him as he settled into the passenger seat of Adrien’s car. “All I’m saying is that it was nice of Ivan to invite you to his wedding, even at the last minute. The _least_ you could do is show your face and offer your congratulations to the happy couple. I think we _all_ could use some cheer, after this giant mess Shade has dragged us all into.”

…Huh. Plagg must be really worried about him if he was pushing him to go to a party—a _wedding_ of all things—where Plagg would have to remain silent and still in his pocket for the majority of the night. Sometimes it was a chore, to decode Plagg’s meaning from his harsh-sounding words…but then again, Adrien had learned a lot about the language of Plagg over the years, to the point where he was damn near fluent. And if even _Plagg_ thought it would be a good idea for him to go…

‘ _Marinette might be there,_ ’ a tiny, worrying voice in the back of his head whispered. Adrien sighed at that.

Well…if she could be adult about seeing him at Ivan and Myléne’s wedding, then surely he could do the same, couldn’t he…?

…Or he would just escape at his first possible chance to avoid seeing her all night at an event where love was meant to be celebrated…

Adrien shook his head. Plagg was right—this was not about him, and his hurt feelings regarding Marinette…his team leader…and ex-girlfriend. This was about Ivan and Myléne, and celebrating their declarations of love for each other. Adrien could do this. He could _totally_ do this.

Tugging out his phone, he sent a quick text to Ivan’s private number:

**Adrien: Thought about it. I’ll be there on Saturday to offer my official congratulations.**

**Adrien: By the way…what’s the word on the bachelor party?**

_Ivan: Uh._

_Ivan: As far as I know, Nathanael’s been a bit too busy to plan anything like that…_

**Adrien: …So you’re saying the privilege is up for grabs? :D**

_Ivan: Oh._

_Ivan: Uh._

_Ivan: If you want to, I guess…?_

**Adrien: So you’re saying I have free reign in regards to this impromptu bachelor party? >:3**

_Ivan: …_

_Ivan: I know that’s meant to be a cute emoji…_

_Ivan: But to be honest, I’m kind of terrified right now._

**Adrien: Don’t worry, Ivan—I’ll make sure you’re at the altar on Saturday…one way or another.**

**Adrien: >:3c**

_Ivan: Oh dear._

 

* * *

The waves crashed onto the shore as the sun arced lazily through the sky to begin setting for the evening, a light spring breeze reducing the heat and making the sunbeams pleasant. The arch sat dutifully in its place, lilies and roses interwoven in the structure, with a length of red carpet leading up to it, white folding chairs set up on either sides of it.

It was a lovely day for a beach wedding, and Marinette could find nothing out of place about such beautiful scenery…except for one thing: _him._

 _He_ was not supposed to be here. Yet here he was.

It wasn’t fair—Marinette had sent in her RSVP _months_ in advance for this wedding, as well as booked a room at the NH Marseille Palm Beach hotel, where the reception would be held, since she knew she wouldn’t want to drive all the way back to her apartment after the celebration. She had bought her bluebell dress—the one Alya said complimented her eyes—and matching shoes back in December, had made the necessary alterations to it a month in advance, and she and Alya had decided to make a day of it, going to a beauty salon to get their hair, nails, and make-up done just for the occasion.

So why on _earth_ was Adrien Agreste here, when he couldn’t have had more than a week to prepare, looking so drop-dead gorgeous that Marinette was taking it as a personal offense?

“Ivan apparently invited him Wednesday,” Alya informed her as they watched Nino give his greetings to his best friend, who was standing on the opposite end of the beach and speaking with Ivan and Nathanael, apparently ignoring Marinette the way she wished she could ignore him. “Nino said he told him it was a last-minute thing…since Alix couldn’t be here…”

Marinette sighed at the thought of Alix. It really _wasn’t_ fair. She should be here, too…

“Is Kim okay?” She wanted to check, distracting herself from her own heartache to focus on the well-being of someone else. Alya shrugged, her lips twisting.

“I dunno. I haven’t seen him here yet—oh wait, there he is with Max over there.”

Alya nodded to the right of them, and Marinette turned to watch Max and Kim make their way onto the beach, dressed nice and hand in hand. Kim still looked a little rough to Marinette’s eyes; as she watched, he heaved a large sigh, kicking a large sand dune with his foot. Max pulled him to a stop, and appeared to mutter something to him. Kim made a face, but then gave a nod…and to Marinette’s great surprise, he turned red when Max planted a kiss to his cheek.

“Wh—” She whirled to gape at Alya in shock. “Kim and Max are together?! But I thought—what about Alix?”

“Oh,” Alya said, grinning at the look on Marinette’s face. “I forgot you didn’t know: those three are a _thing._ ”

Marinette felt her eyes go wide.

“Th—the three of them? They’re… _together?_ ”

“Yep.” Alya snorted. “Remember all those jokes they made back in lycée about having a threesome? Yeah, those stopped being jokes when they got to university.”

“Oh,” Marinette mumbled, feeling her face grow hot. “Oh…well, um…”

“You don’t have to understand it,” Alya assured her with a pat to her shoulder. “Just know that they’re happy.” She frowned briefly, her plucked eyebrows furrowing. “Well, happy as they can be, given the situation…”

Marinette instinctively bit her lip as she glanced over at Kim and Max again, remembering her lipstick a moment later, but it didn’t stop the concerned gaze she shot at the two men as they slowly made their way to the seating area for the wedding. Even though they walked closely together—and it might have just been Marinette’s imagination, but—it seemed like there was still a gap of sorts between them. A gap where Alix should be.

Alya squeezed Marinette’s shoulder, and Marinette turned to see the understanding smile on her best friend’s face.

“Smile, hun,” she reminded her. “Today’s supposed to be a happy occasion, remember?”

“I know, I know,” Marinette sighed. “It’s just terrible that Alix couldn’t be here. You know she was supposed to be Ivan’s best man.”

“I know,” Alya replied, nodding grimly. “I was actually looking forward to seeing her and Juleka walking down the aisle together. They would’ve looked so cute.”

 Said maid of honor emerged from the bridal tent nearby at that moment, shielding her eyes from the bright sun as she strolled out arm in arm with a pixie-like blonde woman with baby blue eyes and a sunny smile.

“Well, she and Nathanael will look cute together too, I guess,” Alya reckoned, hazel eyes speculative as they traveled over to the red-haired man standing in the group of men talking near the arch. “Myléne wanted a small bridal party, so she and Rose are the only bridesmaids.”

Again, though she didn’t want them to, Marinette’s eyes turned towards where Adrien stood in that group, scowling at the white dress shirt and dark gray vest he wore with the sleeves rolled up, hands stuffed into the pockets of the slacks matching his vest, and his tie matching his eyes. His blonde hair was windswept; he kept reaching up to adjust it, but it was frankly a lost cause when the wind kept playfully tossing it. He made a face as he ran his hand through it again, and Nathanael, who was dressed similarly to Adrien, Marinette couldn’t help but note, laughed at him as Nino cringed sympathetically.

Marinette scowled. It was weird to see her two exes being so friendly with each other—though she and Nathanael had been together for much longer than her and Adrien, she bore no ill will towards _him._ But looking at Adrien, Marinette could feel a tempest begin to build within herself, even though they hadn’t been together longer than two months.

It was _not fair_ —he looked perfectly fine over there, totally content. And it burned Marinette up. Why should _she_ be the only one still hurting over him, when he looked like he was just fine without her?

Though he wasn’t facing in Marinette’s direction—Marinette could only glare at his profile—quite suddenly, he looked over, directly at her. Marinette jolted, not expecting to suddenly meet his eyes. She felt herself turn red and swiftly looked away, attempting to look like it had been mere coincidence that she had met his gaze…but judging from the pitying look on Alya’s face, she could guess that she wasn’t quite succeeding.

“So, since there are only two groomsmen and bridesmaids each,” Marinette began in a determined voice, staring resolutely at Alya, despite the fact that she could still feel _his_ eyes on her. “I’m guessing Ivan’s other groomsman is…?”

Alya cringed.

“Yeah…Nino mentioned that was a last-minute thing, too,” she admitted. Marinette huffed.

“Why him?” She asked of no one in particular, almost moving to pinch the bridge of her nose—but Alya caught her hand, and Marinette remembered her make-up. Nice save, Alya. “There wasn’t anybody else Ivan could ask?”

“I dunno, girl,” Alya readily admitted with a shrug, the straps of her lilac dress jostled by the movement and slipping off her shoulders. As she rolled her eyes to herself and readjusted them, she added, “The way Nino tells it, Ivan and Adrien have gotten pretty close…I guess it’s because of all those Wednesday mornings they’re locked in a room together for an hour…”

Marinette, though she wanted to be sour, felt her attitude lessening at the constant mention of Nino.

“I’m glad you two patched things up,” she admitted, circling Alya to help her fix her sleeves, the culprit being the tiny hook that had come undone at the back of her dress. See, these little hooks were a poor design choice, in Marinette’s opinion, for they were huge nuisances when they came undone. In front of her, Alya let out a breath.

“Yeah, me too,” she admitted quietly, her voice thoughtful. “I don’t know if we would’ve survived a second break-up, to be honest…” She paused, and then turned her head to look at Marinette, chagrin in her eyes. “Oh, but we don’t have to talk about that—”

Marinette laughed without humor, fixing the hook before she circled back around to face Alya.

“Don’t apologize for being happy,” she told her best friend firmly, glancing over her shoulder at Nino now. “I’m glad you and Nino are still together.”

It was Nino’s turn to glance at Marinette now, as if he felt her staring. She offered him a hesitant smile, and though he couldn’t quite return it, the acknowledging nod was a relief. Honestly, Marinette wasn’t surprised at all—though it didn’t seem like she had actually done any lasting damage to his and Adrien’s friendship by forcing them to reveal themselves five days ago, he couldn’t be happy with her right now. If anyone, Nino was someone she owed an apology to…

Withholding her sigh—and avoiding Alya’s searching gaze—Marinette glanced down at her watch. Five more minutes to go.

“We’d better sit down,” she noted, jerking her head at the quickly filling chairs. “It’s almost time for the wedding to start.”

“Hold on,” Alya stalled her, taking her arm as Marinette began to walk away. “Marinette, are you _sure_ you’re okay?”

The concern in Alya’s gaze as Marinette turned back to look at her was so profound that it threw Marinette off, and she answered honestly instead of delivering the diplomatic half-truths she’d been spouting for the past week or so.

“Not really.” She bit her lip. “But…today isn’t really about me, you know? I mean…” She sighed, displacing a dark strand of her hair from the lace braid that crossed the front of her hair, ending in a low bun just behind her right ear, a bunch of hydrangeas laced artfully through the bun. Again, Alya took her hand, as if afraid that Marinette would undo her careful up-do in a fit of passion…an assumption that was probably fair, considering how Marinette was feeling. After giving her best friend a grateful look, Marinette finished her thought.

“…I definitely didn’t think I’d have to see him here…but I can ignore him.” Doubt flickered across Alya’s face, though she tried to pass it off as loose strands of her hair tickling her face as the wind tossed them, and Marinette scowled. “I _will_ ignore him. Today is about Myléne and Ivan, and their wedding.”

Alya inspected Marinette for a moment. She straightened her shoulders and set her face into a determined expression, willing Alya to believe her conviction…

This made Alya smile.

“Your brave face is good, hun,” she admitted, moving her hands to Marinette’s shoulders and giving them a squeeze. “It would probably even fool me…if I didn’t know you better than that.”

Marinette let out a huff.

“Can’t you just _pretend_ to be fooled for once?” She whined. Alya smothered a laugh, bringing Marinette in for a hug.

“As your best friend, Mari, it is my duty to lie _for_ you, not _to_ you,” she corrected, drawing back and flipping half the hair that wasn’t pinned and piled atop her head out of her face. “I don’t know what happened…but I can still tell you’re hurting.” Alya’s pretty features were once again marred by her frown of concern. “As much as I want to help you…I think maybe you should talk out whatever happened between you two with Adrien.”

“But I don’t _want_ to talk to him,” Marinette insisted stubbornly, hating the petulant note that escaped into her tone, and further embarrassed by it when Alya picked up on it, if her raised eyebrow was any indication. “He said something so hurtful to me that I don’t think I’ll ever forgive him!”

“So this is his fault?” Alya wanted to confirm, and Marinette opened her mouth to insist that _yes_ , this was _absolutely_ his fault, him with his stubborn insistence that she blindly trust him, despite knowing that he had burned her in that regard before, and the accusation that she had murdered his father in cold blood when he knew _damn well_ it was an accident and she had apologized _more than once_ for it—

The agony she had seen in Adrien’s eyes that night flashed through Marinette’s mind, the heartbreak in him clear when he came to the conclusion that she didn’t trust him, and abruptly, her assertions dried up in her throat.

That fight between them had been volatile, the result of a dangerous and emotionally chaotic night mixed with all the things they weren’t saying and _should_ have said to each other a long time ago. Though she was loathe to admit it, Marinette kept going over that night in her mind, late at night when she should have been sleeping, tears trailing down her face as she tried to figure out what she should have said differently, what she could’ve done to fix it, before everything had been torn apart, shattered at their feet.

Above all, the question that haunted her most was whether or not she was even justified in her anger. Had she been wrong to fire back at Adrien the way she had? Had it been wrong of her to admit she still had her reservations about him, despite observing, with her own eyes, how hard he had been working to change, to right his wrongs?

Despite saying that she trusted him, despite asserting that she had forgiven him…had she actually been keeping Chat Noir—been keeping _Adrien_ —at arm’s length to protect herself, to avoid the pain that came with the fall of losing control…losing him…?

There were no answers, only questions. Which was why it was so much easier for her to just stay angry, to cling to her resentment, reminding herself that Adrien thought her a _murderer._ It was so much easier to just find him at fault, instead of letting herself wonder whether or not _she_ had really been in the right…especially when a little voice that grew stronger with each day whispered that Adrien wasn’t without his points, however harshly he might have worded them…

At Marinette’s silence, Alya tilted her head.

“…Well, whether or not you talk to him is up to you, I guess,” she said with a slight shrug, though her face was still pinched in a frown. “It just breaks my heart to see you like this, hun. Especially since I can’t help.”

Despite herself, Marinette snorted.

“You know it’s not actually your job to fix everything that goes wrong in my life,” she pointed out. Alya sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes.

“The hell it ain’t,” she asserted, pulling Marinette into a hug again and patting her back. “No matter what, you’re _my_ Marinette, and if it’s within my power and capabilities to ensure your happiness, then I will _do_ it.”

“I know,” Marinette mumbled, the words muffled because Alya’s bicep was in her face. She wriggled a little, pulling back to give Alya a look that was both amused and exasperated all at the same time. “It’s why Nino and I are afraid you’ll wind up in jail one day.”

Alya winked.

“They’d have to catch me first.”

The scary part was that Marinette believed that Alya’s confidence was totally warranted.

Still, it was flattering—Marinette probably could not ask for a better friend, so even if she and Adrien ended up being at odds about this fight forever…well, she would be too busy trying to talk her best friend out of murder to be too depressed.

“Come on,” Marinette urged again when music began to play from the band that was set up nearby. Gathering their skirts into their hands for better mobility, she and Alya hastily made their way to the seating area, quickly sliding into the seats Nino had graciously saved for them. As they got situated, Marinette managed to catch Ivan’s eye, and she grinned at him. He smiled back, and Marinette giggled a little at the way he fidgeted, adjusting his suit jacket as he breathed deeply. He looked so nervous, it was so endearing, and Marinette quite forgot about the approach of the rest of the bridal party until they were passing by.

Alya was right—Juleka and Nathanael did look good together, for they were the same height and complexion, so they complimented each other well. The same went for Adrien and Rose, though Marinette could not stand to admit it—two blondes with sunny smiles, looking more like runway models than anyone had a right to. Marinette checked her impulse to stick her foot out into the aisle to trip Adrien up as he passed her, recognizing that it would be _unbelievably_ petty, and reminding herself that today was not about her, but about Ivan and Myléne. She could do this…she could behave long enough to be happy for her two friends…

As Adrien and Rose took their places, the crowd rose and turned to the back. Marinette could feel herself grinning wide as she spotted Myléne clutching her father’s arm, all decked out in her white, lacy dress, sleeveless with a sweeatheart neckline and a skirt that blossomed around her, as if she was being birthed from a white rose, her blonde hair curled and pinned up, a lace veil trailing from it. Her face was bright red, but it appeared that she was flushed with happiness, for as soon as she set eyes upon Ivan, her entire face lit up with her smile, and she positively _glowed_ as she floated past, all her attention absorbed by her future husband. Marinette felt Alya sigh beside her, and she agreed, clutching at her purse. Her make-up was waterproof today (for more reasons than one), but just in case, she had a couple packs of tissues stuffed into her purse along with Tikki. It seemed it had been a smart move, for as Fred joined his daughter’s hand with his future son-in-law’s and stepped to the side, literally bowing out of the way, Marinette felt herself choke up. Oh boy, this was going to be an emotionally trying time…

“Before we begin,” began the officiant as he stood before the happy couple, looking more serious than the situation warranted, in Marinette’s opinion. “The bride and the groom have asked me to recognize a dear friend who could not be here. Let be known that Alix Kubdel is in our thoughts today, and that she is with us in spirit.”

Marinette frowned a little. While the sentiment was felt, it was a little too grim for her. After all, it wasn’t like Alix was dead. She’d wake up one day…she had to…

After a moment of silence, the officiant began the ceremony. He had the sort of droning voice that Marinette hated in a college professor, because it made her zone out immediately, and her mind wandered to focus on other things—the way Nino’s fingers laced with Alya’s next to her…the warmth of the sun on her face…the sound of the ocean pitching forward and pulling back, the repeated rocking relaxing to listen to…the sight of piercing green eyes—

Marinette jolted, realizing that Adrien was staring at her. He dropped his gaze when he seemed to notice her looking, only to glance back at her again a moment later, red coloring his cheeks. Marinette looked resolutely away, at Myléne and Ivan, focusing on the way they held hands and gazed at each other to distract herself, her face hotter than she would have liked it to be.

What the hell was he staring at her for? What did he want? To fluster her?

If that was his endgame, Marinette was loathe to admit that it was working. She risked another glance in his direction, finding him watching her from his peripheral vision. She scowled. What was he doing?

Alya nudged her.

“What’s with you?” She muttered, raising an eyebrow at Marinette. She shook her head in response, refusing to even dignify the situation with an answer. Besides, how juvenile would it sound, complaining to her best friend that her ex-boyfriend wouldn’t stop staring at her? No, Marinette would rather suffer in silence on this one.

Besides, for the hundredth time, today was not about her—it was about Ivan and Myléne, the latter of which was about to start her vows.

Gratefully accepting what looked like notecards from Rose, Myléne turned back to her groom, carefully clearing her throat as she smiled up at him.

“Ivan,” she began, softly at first, but her voice growing with confidence with every word, “when I picture my plan for my life, there isn’t any part of it that doesn’t have you in it. It’s been that way since we were fourteen, both so shy and clueless about love, and yet, somehow, we still found our way to each other…with a little help.”

A chuckle rippled through the crowd, and Ivan sheepishly scratched his cheek. It took Marinette a moment to realize what they were driving at, but as Myléne swept her veil back over her shoulder, she saw what she had missed earlier—that old Ladybug pin, fixed upon one of the straps of Myléne’s wedding dress, as if not even her wedding day could stop her from wearing it. Marinette felt her throat close up for an entirely different reason than she expected.

“I don’t regret anything about that day,” Myléne went on, her amber eyes firm as she gazed up at her groom. “I know it wasn’t what you had in mind, and it certainly wasn’t what I was expecting either…but that was the day you first bared your heart to me, Ivan. It was the first time I was able to truly understand you as a person…and it was how I knew that I wanted to be with you.”

Ivan flushed red, and a coo went through the crowd at the sight. Marinette heard Alya sniffling next to her, and without looking, she reached into her purse and fished out a tissue packet, which she handed to her. Alya muttered her thanks, and Marinette glanced over briefly, her heart warming and aching when she saw her best friend wrapped in Nino’s arms, hiding her face as she discreetly wiped her tears, Nino smiling as he ran his hand up and down her arm in comfort. They were so cute, it was almost unfair.

The sound of applause was abrupt; Marinette realized that she had missed the end of Myléne’s vows when she witnessed the bride slide a wedding band onto Ivan’s finger. Resolving to pay better attention this time, Marinette focused her gaze on Ivan next, a slight ache going through her as she watched Adrien hand Ivan his vows.

“Myléne,” Ivan began, and Marinette smiled as his face began to turn red again. He cleared his throat, and though she could see that his hands shook just a little, he powered through anyway. “I admit that I’m one of those few people who is surprised that we’ve made it this far, not because I didn’t dare to dream it, but because I’m so overwhelmed by the fact that you, wonderful, amazing you…are happy with being with me for the rest of your life.”

Myléne pouted, and Ivan chuckled at her expression.

“I don’t mean to put myself down,” he assured her with a smile that melted the discontent right off Myléne’s face. “I don’t mean to say that you are so far above me that I shouldn’t have been able to reach you. I mean that I feel, so much, that you deserve the world that it leaves me breathless to know that you believe so firmly that I can give you the world, and more. Your positivity—your faith and trust in me—means more than I could ever properly express to you. I love you so much.”

She didn’t mean to do it. Marinette was committed to watching this loving moment between her two good friends, but almost as if she couldn’t help it, as if her body was put out with her stubborn mind, her gaze shifted to the last-minute groomsman.

Adrien was already staring at her. Marinette wished he wouldn’t; it was almost like he was picking a fight, challenging her to look away from him, from the hurt buried in his eyes, or the way his cheeks reddened as he stared at her, as if her gaze was still enthralling to him, despite the abuse they had hurled at one another, the pain they had caused each other—

“As perfect as this day might be, though, I know it won’t always be sunshine and smooth sailing,” Ivan continued, completely oblivious to the staring match that was going on between one of his guests and one of his groomsmen. “Things will get tough—there will be days when we argue, days where we won’t like each other very much. Though I don’t look forward to them, I know they’ll happen. But at the same time, I know that’s okay, too, because, no matter what happens, no matter how tough things get…”

Because Marinette refused to lose the staring match this time, she noticed immediately when Adrien’s lips began to move.

“…I will always find my way back to you,” Ivan said as Adrien’s lips formed the words, verbatim, “back to us.”

Marinette stared at him.

That…that wasn’t fair. He couldn’t _do_ that, use her words against her like that. It was completely unfair! What was he trying to do, _break_ her?

Something soft pressed itself to the edge of Marinette’s eye, and she startled, but it was only Alya, dabbing at the tears that had gathered in Marinette’s eyes without her noticing. Unable to do more than nod her gratitude, Marinette hurriedly snatched the tissue and buried her face in it, shame heating her cheeks as tears began to pour from her eyes, uncontrollable. As applause erupted around her, and the officiator pronounced Ivan and Myléne man and wife, it was all Marinette could do to keep herself together until they passed by, laughing amidst cheers from their friends and family. Hastily apologizing, Marinette climbed over Alya, Nino, and all the other guests sitting in that row before the rest of the bridal party could follow after the bride and groom, fleeing to the bathroom situated just off the shore.

The solitude and coolness of the bathroom did nothing to comfort her. As Marinette bent over a sink, she shuddered, gasping for air, feeling as if she might be sick.

That was a dirty trick. She was certain Adrien had tricked Ivan into adding those words into his vows. Even if that was how he really felt about Myléne, even if Ivan didn’t know any better, those were Marinette’s words— _Ladybug’s_ words, spoken to her prodigal partner when…when…

Marinette let out a sob, tears falling into the basin of the sink.

It wasn’t fair. He had said such cruel, hurtful things to her just a few days ago, and yet here he was today, staring at her, mouthing words of devotion to her, looking like…

Like he still loved her.

The bathroom door opened behind her.

“Marinette?” Alya’s voice echoed off the walls, the sharp sound of her heels stepping across the damp floor reaching Marinette over her crying. “Are you okay?”

“…No,” Marinette moaned now, completely miserable. “I’m not okay.”

“Oh, hun,” Alya sighed, her hands rubbing circles into Marinette’s back. “I was afraid of this…guess I really _do_ have to kick Adrien’s ass—”

“No,” Marinette protested weakly, whirling around to stare tearfully at her bewildered best friend. “D-don’t. Please…”

“…But he’s making you cry,” Alya pointed out slowly, clutching Marinette’s shoulders as Marinette continued to weep into her hands. “You’re hurting because of him.”

“I know,” Marinette wept, feeling her heart somehow breaking all over again, even as it already beat in separate, disjointed pieces in her chest. “I know…but…”

Marinette grit her teeth, but the words could not be held back anymore, and they burst from her just as a new wave of tears cascaded from her eyes:

“…But I love him, Alya…”

Alya apparently had nothing to say to that. As Marinette cried, she felt the arms of her best friend circle her, as if that would be enough to un-break Marinette’s heart. Still, it was comfort Marinette could not provide herself, and so she clung to Alya, sniffling as she tried to get herself under control, her inner seamstress worried about staining Alya’s lilac dress with her tears, despite the fact that she had bigger problems to worry about.

So, the truth was out: despite the fact that Adrien had called her a murderer, despite the fact that he had yet to apologize for the words he may or may not have meant…Marinette was still in love with him. And it _hurt,_ her own heart betraying her, apparently as stubborn as her head. They clashed hotly against one another, neither willing to concede to the other, tearing Marinette apart from the inside. And she just couldn’t do it anymore. There was _no way_ she could go on like this.

So…what could she do? How could she decide on her course of action when she was being forcibly pulled in opposite directions?

Which could she smother without too much damage? What could she survive taking a hit?

Her pride?

Or her happiness…?

 

* * *

 

“How is she?”

Alya sighed as she slipped into Ballroom A, tugging the pins out of her hair that held half of it up, shaking it out and finger-combing through the thick locks, with mild difficulty.

“She’s fixing her make-up. Apparently, even waterproof mascara has a limit,” she informed her fiancé, slipping the pins into a pocket of her dress—a dress with _pockets,_ bless Marinette. Alya carefully slipped a finger into her other pocket, the playful nip she received assuring her that Trixx was still there, and hadn’t flown off to get into mischief somewhere. Good.

“I’m surprised you left her side,” Nino admitted. Alya made a face, her hand going to her hip.

“I only left her alone in her room because she said she wanted some privacy. She said she’d come here for a bit to congratulate Ivan and Myléne, but I think she’s going to turn in early.”

Nino shook his head, handing her a flute glass full of champagne, which Alya accepted gratefully.

“Kind of a downer wedding,” he muttered so only Alya could hear. After swallowing a decent amount of champagne, Alya glanced over to where people were milling about, crowding the happy couple. Myléne and Ivan’s faces were glowing with happiness as they chatted with friends and family over the DJ’s music, keeping one arm around each other at all times. This made Alya smile a little.

“For us, anyway.” She shook her head and regarded Nino with a stern look. “We will be enforcing a strict ‘no drama’ policy at our wedding.”

This made Nino snort.

“That’s not exactly something you can control, babe.”

“The hell I can’t,” Alya disagreed, downing the rest of her champagne in one gulp. “Give my mama a sniper rifle, and we’re good.”

“God, it’s hereditary,” Nino mumbled, raising his hands in surrender when Alya glared at him.

“You knew what you were getting into when you proposed to me, Lahiffe.”

“Yeah, well…technically, I didn’t propose, since you found the ring by accident—”

“Hush,” Alya shushed him, pressing her fingertips to his lips to halt the technicality talk. Besides, he knew that was a lie, since the next morning, he had made her take the ring off so he could actually propose properly, despite the fact that they were both in their underwear…but Alya digressed.

“Ah-ha,” she said softly, sweeping the ballroom quickly with her eyes and spotting a certain blonde ex-model alone at a table in the corner of the room, slumped in his seat and looking very much like he was sulking. “Nino, hold my glass.”

“Whoa,” Nino halted her, catching her arm with his free hand before she could leave. “Lay off him, Alya. I know ‘Nette’s your best friend, but Adrien’s going through a hard time, too, you know.”

Alya turned back to Nino, giving him a critical look.

“So why aren’t _you_ over there talking to him, then?” She challenged. A distinctly awkward look crossed Nino’s face, and he let Alya’s arm go to rub the back of his head.

“I…well, we _did_ talk, the night I found out… _you know,_ ” he said significantly, wary of laughing guests that passed by.

Indeed, Alya did know: she had almost transformed to go find Nino when it had taken him way too long to come home Monday night. She had been halfway out the window when he had finally stumbled through the front door, drunk and exhausted. It hadn’t been easy to discern just what had occurred after Vixen had left the other heroes to their own devices, but Alya had managed to work through enough of Nino’s slurred speech to put two and two together…and it had been a rather chaotic picture.

“We talked about a lot of stuff, and we’re good, but…um.”

Because she knew him so well, Alya was able to infer what Nino meant through his awkward pauses.

“You want to give him time to process,” she filled in the blank, and Nino nodded in relief.

“Yeah. Like I said, dude’s going through it right now.”

Alya breathed deeply, letting it out in a low whoosh.

“I understand,” she admitted, carefully eyeing Nino. “There have been a few too many surprises lately.”

“Yeah…” Nino met her gaze, his brow furrowing. “Speaking of—”

“Don’t start.”

“—I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me you _knew._ ”

“It wasn’t my secret to tell, Nino,” Alya asserted once again, suppressing a roll of her eyes. “I told you this.”

Nino frowned, apparently still unconvinced. Alya tilted her head at him, giving him a dry look.

“You yourself said that you wish Marinette hadn’t pushed you and Adrien into figuring each other out the way you did. Would you _really_ have rather heard the truth from me rather than Adrien himself?”

Nino blinked, his golden eyes growing speculative at this supposition. After a moment of mulling it over, he sighed.

“I guess you’re right,” he conceded to Alya’s point, adjusting his tie—lilac to match Alya’s dress—as he cast a complicated look towards his best friend’s lonely corner. “I wasn’t ready to know back then, anyway.”

“Hmm…I wonder what he would’ve said if you had actually ended up giving him this,” Alya mused, plucking at the chain of her Fox Miraculous, the tail carefully hidden by the neckline of her dress. At the reminder of his mistake, Nino’s face grew ruddy.

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?” He huffed, and Alya smiled in apology, tugging him down by the lapel of his jacket so she could kiss him.

“I don’t mean to open old wounds, baby,” she promised him after he looked good and punch drunk from her kisses. “I just think it would’ve been a funnier way for him to reveal himself to you than the way it actually happened.”

Nino sighed softly, his arms sliding around Alya.

“Well, we’ll never know now…” He cast another glance towards Adrien’s corner, his brows furrowing once again. “…Maybe I should go over there and talk to him. It’s probably not a good idea for him to be alone—”

“I’ve got it,” Alya insisted, slipping out of Nino’s arms and taking a step or two across the ballroom, towards Adrien’s direction.

“Alya—” Nino called her back again, looking more than a little concerned. Alya huffed, raising her eyebrows at him.

“ _Trust_ me, Lahiffe,” she insisted, hands on her hips as she stared him down. “I’m not one to kick people when they’re down…unless they deserve it. I’m kidding,” she stressed when Nino took a step in her direction, looking ready to restrain her at a moment’s notice. “I just want to see how he’s doing. He’s my friend too, you know.”

Movement from the corner of her eye caught Alya’s attention; she glanced over to find Marinette sliding into the ballroom, her make-up flawless once again, though her eyes were rimmed red, and her skin was just a little splotchy from all the crying. Alya’s heart went out to her, and as tempted as she was to swoop in and hug Marinette until all the pain went away, her desire to touch base with Adrien won out.

“Can you look out for Marinette for me?” She asked of her fiancé, nodding in Marinette’s direction, though her best friend was looking like she would rather not be noticed. As he glanced over at Marinette, Alya noticed the conflict that crossed Nino’s face. She grimaced. Oh right, he wasn’t exactly happy with Marinette right now… “Or don’t,” she amended with a shrug, though she frowned. “I’ll drop in on her later if she does leave early to make sure she’s doing all right…but I know there’s some things you wanna hash out with her, too, right?”

Nino sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his head again.

“This really _is_ a downer wedding,” he mumbled, apparently oblivious to the cheerful music that played and the happy chatter around them. Even so, Alya smiled when her fiancé turned, moving to Marinette. He was the sweetest.

Turning on her heel, she marched across the room to where Adrien was sulking, her purpose clear. As much as she might like to smack some sense into her two dumb friends, Alya recognized that the time for tough love had passed. After seeing Marinette nearly cry herself out to the point of dehydration, Alya knew that a certain soft touch was required here now…

…So when she stomped up to Adrien, she made sure to fold her arms and scowl menacingly at him, but in the softest way possible.

Adrien glanced up from his full flute glass, blinking as he took notice of her. Alya noticed his face pale.

For a long moment, they just stared at each other…until Adrien’s lips parted, and he spoke.

“…Are you going to kill me?” He asked, so serious that Alya couldn’t keep a straight face, and she burst into laughter.

“Ahahaha!” She laughed, holding her stomach as hilarity overtook her, though it was sort of a morbid thing to laugh about. “Ahahaha…ahhh…no,” she replied, her giggles renewing at the blatant shock that crossed Adrien’s face. “No, I’m not here to hurt you, Adrien. While that might’ve been true if you were just some asshole who broke my best friend’s heart, circumstances are a little different here.”

“…Really?” Adrien asked, eyeing her warily as Alya breathed deeply to recover from her impromptu laughing fit.

“Yeah,” Alya said, sliding into a seat next to Adrien and grinning. “Because you’re an asshole who broke my best friend’s heart _and_ my friend.”

Adrien’s expression went flat.

“Gee, thanks,” he drawled, and Alya laughed a little more, making herself sober up after a minute.

“You gonna drink that?” She wanted to know, nodding towards the untouched flute glass in front of him. Adrien stared down at it, looking like he was contemplating something very difficult…and then he shook his head, sliding the glass towards Alya. Alya accepted it, frowning a little now.

“Damn. You must be in bad shape if you’re not even in the mood to drink,” she noted after a sip of the bubbly beverage. Adrien frowned.

“Champagne sucks,” he replied, and Alya’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline.

“ _You_ think _champagne_ sucks?” She questioned, eyeing Adrien like he had been replaced with an uncanny imposter the moment she stopped looking. “ _You?_ ”

Adrien gave a half-hearted shrug.

“I’ve been drinking a lot of the stronger stuff, lately,” he confessed.

Alya frowned. Shit, it was worse than she thought.

After another thoughtful sip of her borrowed champagne, Alya decided to start off slow.

“Was nice of you to step up and be one of Ivan’s groomsmen at the last minute,” she said.

Again, Adrien shrugged, as if it didn’t really matter.

“He needed someone. I was just there.” He frowned. “Shouldn’t’ve been me.”

“Why not?”

Adrien huffed, ruffling his blonde hair, making it stick up. Alya pressed her lips together to keep from smiling.

“If Nathanael knew,” Adrien began, staring dejectedly at the table, “or Myléne, or any of them—if they knew who I was, they wouldn’t have wanted me here.”

Oh. Right.

Alya folded her arms, idly twisting the stem of the flute glass in between her thumb and forefinger, watching the liquid inside slosh around as she marshalled her thoughts, frowning slightly.

“About that…” Alya paused, took a moment to swallow the huge pill that was her pride, and sighed. “I’m sorry, Adrien. I know Marinette and I caught you by surprise with that sudden fashion show, and I know it’s probably the reason you and Marinette started having problems in the first place—”

“ _Ha,_ ” Adrien laughed bitterly, startling Alya into silence with the sardonic smile he cast her. “And what do you know about my problems with Marinette, Alya?”

Alya blinked, and frowned. Whoa, he was more pissed than she thought…

“…More than you’d think, actually,” she stated carefully, moving on swiftly when Adrien’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I admit, I don’t know _all_ the details, but Nino was pretty upset when he finally got back Monday night…”

Adrien frowned at that, casting an anxious glance across the room. Following his line of vision, Alya could see Nino leaning against the wall next to Marinette, looking like they were speaking quietly to each other.

“…Um,” Adrien began, and Alya turned her attention back to him, intrigued by the sudden guilt in his expression. “You and Nino…are you okay?”

Alya blinked at this, tilting her head to the side curiously.

“Yeah?” She answered, mildly confused. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I…kind of told him that you knew I’m Chat Noir…” Adrien mumbled, looking ashamed of himself.

…Of all the secrets Alya had been keeping, _that_ was the one Adrien was concerned about? _Ha!_

Doing her best to suppress her laughter this time, Alya patted Adrien’s shoulder.

“It’s all right. We’ve have words, and we’re good,” she promised with a wink. “Helps that I’m amazing in bed, too.”

Adrien flushed at that, and Alya laughed again.

“Anyway, I didn’t come over here to talk about me and Nino: I wanted to check on you.” Alya set her glass down, tracing the top with her pinky finger, making it sing as she frowned at Adrien. “How’re you holding up? Honestly.”

“…Honestly?” Adrien’s expression grew dry. “I’m on the fast track to becoming an alcoholic. That’s honestly how I’m doing.” He huffed and ruffled his hair again, and this time, it was more Chat-like than messy. “Paris despises me, the villain is someone I thought was all right, and _she_ wants me dead, too, and the cherry on top of this frickin’ suck sundae is that my girlfriend—ex-girlfriend—partner— _whatever_. The one person I thought I could trust more than anyone doesn’t trust _me._ And it _sucks._ ”

Adrien sighed again, covering his face with his hands.

“I hate this,” he grumbled, the words muffled by his palms. “This is so much not what I expected when I finally got to talk to Marinette about all this—”

He suddenly cut himself off, his hands whipping from his face as he stared at Alya, mouth suddenly open in horror, like he just realized what he was talking about, and to whom. Alya raised an eyebrow at him, trying so hard not to snort, but honestly, he was making things difficult for her…

“Yes?” She prompted, unable to hide her amusement as Adrien flushed red, hurriedly glancing away from her.

“Nothing,” he said in a rush, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I didn’t say anything—”

“Oh Adrien, _please_ relax, you’re killing me here,” Alya laughed with a slight shake of her head and a smile. “I _know_ , okay? You don’t have to tip-toe around anything with me.”

Adrien blinked; Alya could practically see the gears in his mind working furiously, trying to catch up with this new information…

“…Wait,” he said, leaning forward, eyes intent on Alya’s face, “you _know?_ ”

“Oh hun,” Alya drawled, leaning her head on her fist as she sympathetically patted Adrien’s shoulder. “I figured out Ladybug and Emerald Shell _way_ before I even stumbled across _you_ in that alleyway.”

Adrien’s jaw dropped, the tendons the only things still keeping it anchored to his face. Alya snickered.

“Wha—whe—how did—huh?!” Adrien shook his head in disbelief. “Do—do _they_ know that you know?!”

“Nino does. Marinette doesn’t.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Alya rolled her eyes. She did not have time for this.

“Maybe because I didn’t know about you until later?” She suggested, raising her eyebrows again. “And maybe because I wasn’t at liberty to tell you, because they _weren’t my secrets to tell?_ ” She flipped her hair impatiently. “God, what is it with you and Nino? Why do you both think that just because I know stuff that I should immediately tell you? Would you have been happy to find out from _me_ instead of from the sources themselves?”

“…Maybe,” Adrien replied after a moment, surprising Alya. Her sympathy swelled as he seemed to draw into himself, folding his arms and resting them on the table as he stared at one spot on the tablecloth, his face falling into familiar lines of misery. “I mean…it probably would’ve been better than finding out the way I did…”

Alya let out a breath, scooting closer so she could pat Adrien’s back in comfort.

“I’m sorry, Adrien.”

Adrien let out a humorless snort, sending a wry glance Alya’s way.

“Why should you be sorry?” He asked, smiling bitterly. “If anything, you should be on Marinette’s side. Besides, who the hell am I kidding? Why should I be upset that she doesn’t trust me? After everything I’ve done, why would she?” He laughed again, dislodging Alya’s hand from his back as he leaned back, slouched against the top of his seat as he stared dismally at the ceiling. Despite herself, Alya was impressed over how he still managed to look graceful somehow, despite the clear agony in his expression. Must be the model in him.

“And then I went and accused her of murdering my father in cold blood,” he confessed, and Alya froze at this new piece of information.

“You said _what?_ ” She demanded, immediately questioning whether or not she should actually comfort him now.

 What the _fuck?_ How dare he say something like that! It was true, he didn’t know how Marinette’s mistake had tormented her for a couple years after the fact—not even Alya had understood the random melancholy that would overtake her best friend at times, until now—but still, he had _no right_ to throw that in her face like that!

As if he could feel the storm building within Alya, Adrien peered over at her, defeat in his gaze.

“…I thought so,” he muttered, sighing. “I’m not surprised Marinette didn’t tell you that bit. Otherwise, you never would’ve come over here to try and talk to me. I’ll understand if you want to leave now.”

Oh, Alya didn’t want to leave—she wanted to grab the nearest knife and cut Adrien’s tongue out. Ooh, she could kill him for such words!

…But as angry as she was at him for such an insult…

Alya forced herself to take a deep, calming breath, closing her eyes and counting to ten…no, wait, twenty. She needed to count to twenty.

“…Did you mean it?” She asked, once she was done counting to twenty…five, her eyes still closed, almost afraid that looking at Adrien would send her flying into him, tearing him apart with her bare hands. Adrien took a long time to answer, so long that Alya was halfway out of her chair, ready to walk away and let him grieve over the relationship he had apparently torn apart with his own hands.

“No,” Adrien finally replied, in a voice so small that Alya almost missed it in between the cheerful music playing as couples swept across the dancefloor. That single word managed to keep her from storming off, and she let her eyes open, staring hard at Adrien as he sat up, staring at something on his right wrist—a charm bracelet. Marinette’s charm bracelet, if Alya wasn’t mistaken… “Of course I didn’t mean it. Of course not. I was _there_. I saw what such a terrible mistake did to her, the way it began to change her. Even through my shock, I _saw_ it. And yet, the first thing Marinette—Ladybug—the first thing she said, after we got away from it all…was my name.”

Alya watched, her anger slowly fading, as Adrien touched the charm bracelet with a shaking hand.

“Her first thought was that she had to tell me,” Adrien breathed, and he squeezed his eyes shut, as if to better relive that night with them closed…or maybe he was trying to hold back tears. “She looked so guilty, she _knew_ something terrible had happened. But she still wanted to tell me, on her own, that she was responsible for my father’s death.”

Adrien opened his eyes to glance up at Alya, smiling the most _heartbreaking_ smile Alya had ever seen on him.

“…She was only fourteen years old, then,” he pointed out, as if Alya wasn’t well-aware. “Fourteen, and yet she was ready to accept the responsibility of taking someone else’s life. …How does someone _do_ that? I don’t know if I could’ve, back then. I _definitely_ can’t now.”

Slowly, Alya sank back down into her chair, watching Adrien critically. That look in his eyes…

“You still love her.” It wasn’t a question.

Adrien closed his eyes, his sigh one of defeat.

“I do,” he confirmed. “I’ve been in love with her since I was fourteen years old, and then I fell back in love with her on Christmas. I just…I can’t seem to escape her.” He chuckled helplessly. “I don’t think I even _want_ to anymore.”

Oh, he had it bad. Not that Alya was surprised.

Pursing her lips, she tilted her head to the side, inspecting Adrien for a moment longer, before she asked,

“So why are you telling _me_ all this instead of Marinette?”

All humor left Adrien’s face, and Alya caught a glimpse of how truly miserable Adrien was. It was a little cruel, but seeing him look that way made her feel better about having to witness Marinette cry herself sick over this man.

“She doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore,” he mumbled. Despite her sympathy, Alya rolled her eyes and huffed.

“Oh, and you know this for a fact?” She challenged, leaning over to meet Adrien’s gaze sternly. “Have you called her? Met her for coffee? Had _any_ contact outside your superhero lives to try and straighten this mess out?”

“Well…no—”

“Then what the hell do you know?” Alya insisted, shaking her head. “Adrien, you’ve been gone a while, and you don’t know Marinette like I know Marinette, so I’m gonna clue you in on something: she _freaks the fuck out_ before she commits to a decision. I mean, full-on, almost asylum-worthy freak-outs. She’ll call me in the middle of the night, rambling about some mole hill she accidentally made a mountain by agonizing over it by herself in the dark for hours, and depending on the decision, it’ll take her a while to decide on her course of action before she fully commits to a decision.” She let her gaze fall flat as she stared at Adrien. “From what I’ve heard from you, Nino, and Marinette, it sounds like, in the middle of one of her long freak-outs, you forced her hand.”

Adrien stared at Alya for a moment, his brows slowly scrunching together.

“…What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you didn’t give her a chance to completely make up her mind. From what it sounds like, you just assumed something to be true, and then ran with it.”

Adrien didn’t like that—he scowled, and Alya raised her eyebrows.

“Alya, I know you mean well,” he began, sounding like she was testing his patience, “but you weren’t there during the fight, so you don’t know—”

“I don’t have to know,” Alya cut him off firmly. “The fact is that I know _Marinette,_ and I know how she works. So you can bleat all you want, Lover Boy, but I still have seven years of friendship over you. Therefore, when it comes to knowing how Marinette thinks, I outrank you.”

Alya watched, momentarily entertained as Adrien’s jaw worked, like he was trying to find a way around her logic. After a minute or two of his face steadily getting redder and redder, he let out a sharp breath that sounded too much like a hiss for Alya _not_ to laugh.

“Fine,” Adrien conceded grumpily, scowling at Alya as she snickered. “If you’re so much smarter than me, what do _you_ suggest I do about this mess?”

“I _am_ smarter than you,” Alya agreed with a swift grin before she sobered. “But smarter or not…what you do from here is really up to you, Adrien.”

That seemed to throw him for a loop; he stared at her, looking perplexed beyond belief.

“…What?” He eventually asked, after he seemed to get over being struck dumb. “But…didn’t you come over here to make me make up with Marinette?”

At this, Alya snorted.

“Adrien, you’re a grown-ass man,” she pointed out dryly, “I can’t _make_ you do anything. Like I said earlier, I just came to see how you were doing.”

Adrien eyed her, like he was looking for some kind of trick. Alya regarded him dryly, waiting for him to realize that she was completely sincere. Once that finally seemed to register through his thick skull, his eyes rounded, and he blinked.

“…Are you feeling okay?” Was the first thing he thought to ask. Alya considered hitting him…but then thought better of it. He had spent too much of the evening beating himself up already. Besides…it wasn’t like he didn’t have a point…

“Shut up,” she said anyway with a roll of her eyes, picking up her flute glass to finish off her champagne. “As much as it would save _so_ much time for me to mediate your conversations with Marinette from now on…this is a problem only the two of you can work out.” She gave him a serious look over her empty flute glass. “Whether or not you guys get back together has nothing to do with me. But just because you broke up doesn’t necessarily mean you have nothing more to say to each other.”

Adrien’s gaze grew intense, and he leaned forward.

“Did Marinette say—”

“Uh-uh,” Alya denied him immediately, turning and sliding off her chair on the other side so she could stand up. “You’re not getting another word out of me. You wanna know what Marinette thinks? Then _talk to Marinette._ ”

“But—she doesn’t—”

“You won’t know whether she does or doesn’t until you talk to her, will you?” Alya reminded him with a quirked brow. “Now, if you wanna sit in this corner and sulk all night, that’s up to you. But if you actually want to try fixing what you two broke, the least you can do is _try._ Either way, the decision’s up to you, Tiger.”

Adrien frowned, appearing lost in thought. Alya let out a breath, hoping that whatever he was concentrating on so hard would lead him to a healthy decision. Good lord, being the guiding hand of the group was tiring. She needed another drink.

As she reached over to grab her empty glass, however, her wrist was suddenly caught. Blinking in surprise, Alya glanced over, startled by how intense Adrien’s eyes were suddenly upon hers. The hell…?

“What’s your problem?” She wanted to know, tugging against his grip. Unfortunately, his grip was strong; apparently he wasn’t about to let her go, because there was a question burning in his eyes, something he desperately wanted to know…

“Alya,” he began in a low voice, and Alya frowned, leaning over to hear him better, “did you just call me...‘Tiger’?”

Alya blinked. Did she? Hmm, maybe she did. But so what? What was the big deal?

As Alya watched him, Adrien’s gaze darted down, seeming to lock onto something near her neckline. She glanced down, too, and received a jolt—the top end of the pendant of her Fox Miraculous was peeking out of her dress.

“… _Alya,_ ” Adrien said again, significance burning in his tone, but Alya sighed and pulled her arm out of his grasp.

“Adrien, sweetie, I _so_ do not have time for this,” she told him as gently as she could, patting his cheek indulgently as she pushed her pendant back into her dress. “I think _this_ conversation can wait—isn’t there someone else you’d rather be talking to at the moment?”

With a cheeky wink to his slack-jawed expression, Alya flounced away, empty glass in hand, ready for a refill. She was done playing therapist for tonight—the only reason she was bothering to do so was because she thought it would be a little unfair for Ivan to have to work on his wedding night. Oh, and she loved those two clueless friends of hers, of course. But now, as far as she was concerned, she and Nino had played their parts, so she was going to have a little more champagne, and then she was going to relieve Marinette of her fiancé and dance with him for a good part of the evening, before taking him upstairs to their hotel room and making sweet, sweet love to him all night.

What Marinette and Adrien did from here on out was in their own hands, now. And Alya dared to be hopeful that they wouldn’t fuck it up this time around.

 

* * *

 

Marinette swayed slowly from side to side, her body seemingly compelled by the music, but her eyes were far away. Nino assumed she was marveling at the crowd that still surrounded Ivan and Myléne, despite the fact that the people in the front had to have been congratulating them for at least twenty minutes now; she was probably wondering if she even had a chance of breaking through such a barrier. He laughed a little to himself, wondering if maybe they should swap Miraculous, because she appeared to be in need of a shield.

‘ _In more ways than one,_ ’ Nino noted as he himself bore witness to the unhappiness in her expression as he drew closer. He leaned against the wall she was helping to hold up, feeling her gaze on him as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. Nino glanced askance at her, a little amused by the surprise in her wide eyes. She must be wondering what he was doing here…

“Hey,” he greeted casually. Marinette paused before offering him a tremulous smile.

“Hi,” she replied. It went quiet for another moment before Nino turned to look her in the face, frowning at the red rimming her eyes. Damn…beautiful as she was, he could still say she looked like hell. Not out loud of course, but…

He glanced away so she wouldn’t feel self-conscious, watching the DJ work instead. Hmm…despite the flashiness of her appearance—rainbow-colored hair and glitter all over her face—she wasn’t half-bad.

“Doing okay?” Nino asked of Marinette, working to keep sounding casual. She wasn’t, clearly, but the question was obligatory, and therefore, unavoidable.

He heard Marinette laugh softly.

“What about you?” She asked. “You look like you’re sour that Ivan and Myléne didn’t ask you to DJ for the reception.”

Nino snorted at this. Yeah, right.

“I just came back from a tour—I’m tired,” he reminded her, wincing slightly as he rolled one of his shoulders, sore from all the heavy burdens he’d been carrying lately. “Besides, they would have had to ask me just when things started getting busy…” He touched his bracelet, frowning a little. “I wouldn’t want to say yes in case I had to back out at the last minute.”

Honestly, he was relieved Myléne and Ivan hadn’t asked Alya to ask him—he would have felt terrible about declining without being able to give them a proper reason…

After a moment, he turned to face Marinette, eyes roving her face.

 “You never answered my question, though,” Nino pointed out, and Marinette cringed. “Are you all right?”

“…”

Marinette appeared to size him up, chewing her lip. Nino suppressed a smile, wondering if she would deny the obvious or admit defeat. Knowing her for as long as he had, he knew that one of these things was significantly more likely than the other.

Finally, Marinette let out a sigh and slumped against the wall behind them.

“If I said yes, would you even believe me?”

“Nope,” Nino answered swiftly, unable to help his chuckling when Marinette’s pout grew. Poor thing. While he admired her strength, he truly did, it hurt a part of him to watch her try to be strong all the time: _everyone_ had their limits, after all. Even Ladybug.

“Nino,” Marinette began softly after a moment, eyeing Nino from under her lashes, looking troubled. “Did Alya send you over here?”

Nino gave a half-shrug.

“Well, believe it or not, she gave me a choice,” he said with an exaggerated lift of his eyebrows, which made Marinette giggle. “In the end, I chose to come over here, because it looked like you needed a friend.”

Marinette smiled, but the action was tinged with guilt.

“…Can I still call you that?” She wondered, though it seemed like she was talking more to herself than anything. Now Nino raised both his eyebrows. She wasn’t serious, was she?

“Of course,” he chided her with a shake of his head. “Why would you even ask that?”

“But…you’re mad at me, aren’t you…?”

Nino snorted and rolled his eyes. Oh man, she _was_ serious. Jeez.

“Just because I might not be happy with you right now doesn’t mean we’ve stopped being friends,” Nino told her, his tone quite dry. “If relationships ended every time someone got mad at someone else, either everyone would be bitter and alone, or absolutely no one would fight and internalize everything. Which would just bring up a whole _other_ shitload of problems…hell, Ivan would be too busy for his new wife; everybody’d be booking him left and right because they’d all be fucked up…”

Realizing he had strayed onto a tangent, Nino huffed and rubbed the back of his head, mentally reminding himself to get back on track.

“The point is,” he went on, frowning down at Marinette as he folded his arms across his chest, “what you did Monday night wasn’t cool, and yeah, I’m kind of pissed at you for it. But that doesn’t mean we’re not friends anymore. Come on, ‘Nette.”

Marinette ducked her head, but even from that angle, Nino could see her blush.

“I’m sorry, Nino,” she apologized, her voice strong despite how awkward the situation was for the both of them. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have pushed you and A-Adrien like that. I wanted to think it was because I was done with all the secrets but…” Her voice lowered, and Nino had to stoop to hear her. “…I was just trying to hurt Adrien.”

A corner of Nino’s mouth twisted down. He was afraid of that…

“Well, you didn’t need a pushy reveal to do that, ‘Nette,” he informed her, though he tried to state it as diplomatically as possible. “Dude’s already hurt from your break-up.”

Marinette fell silent, and so Nino watched people glide around on the dancefloor for a while, the air full of love and laughter…at least, for all the civilians in the room, in any case.

“…He’s hurt?” Marinette asked after a long pause, and Nino glanced back down at her, finding her staring up at him anxiously. “Really?”

“…This surprises you?” Nino asked, becoming incredulous. “What, did you think you were the only one upset by it?”

“Well,” Marinette began, her brows furrowing, “he hasn’t really been acting like—”

“Marinette,” Nino cut in, pushing off the wall to fully face her, feeling his frown deepen. “Of _course_ Adrien’s upset. Just because he hasn’t been crying out in the open doesn’t mean he’s not upset. The guy’s been in love with you for _forever._ How would he _not_ be upset about you two breaking up? Do I _really_ need to be the one to remind you that he has feelings, too?”

Marinette flushed red, folding her arms defensively as she scowled up at him.

“W-well he’s been strutting around all day, acting like everything’s fine!” Marinette burst out, drawing stares from some nearby guests, though she didn’t appear to notice. “Why do _I_ have to be the only one obviously affected by him? He even acted like it was fine to use my own words against me! It’s not fair!”

Okay, Nino was officially lost, and officially failing at this whole ‘comforting Marinette’ thing. He’d better figure out how to calm her down, and fast, because if Alya had to come over and mediate, it would be mission failure for him.

“‘Nette, take it easy,” he urged her as politely as he could—he knew both Marinette and Alya hated to be told to calm down, for it implied that they were overreacting, so he always had to do his damnedest to make sure he sounded as respectful of their feelings as possible. As Marinette stood there with her feet apart, fists balled at her side, Nino took her by her shoulders, giving them a squeeze. “I don’t know exactly what happened between you two…but I can tell you, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Adrien’s just as broken-hearted as you are, if not more.”

Was this breaking the Bro Code? Nino couldn’t be sure, but if it was breaking the Code to be honest about how hurt Adrien was by all this, then it was a dumb rule anyway. Besides, Marinette was his friend too, so the lines were a little blurred here. In any case, some of the tension seemed to leave Marinette, and she took a deep breath, her face settling into sadness once again.

“I—” she stopped, sighed, and tried again. “It’s not like I _want_ him to be sad. I just…I just don’t want him to be ‘fine’.” She frowned, glancing up at Nino. “That makes me a terrible person, doesn’t it?”

“No,” Nino assured her, smiling slightly. “I think I get it. Misery loves its company, and all that.”

“No, I...I would just rather him not act like none of this affects him,” Marinette mumbled, dropping her eyes to her shoes. “I don’t like that I had to rush off to the bathroom right after Myléne and Ivan got married to bawl my eyes out, just because Adrien mouthed some of Ivan’s vows to me, like it was _nothing._ ”

Nino blinked at this. Oh…huh. Okay, that explained Marinette’s sudden departure…

Unable to help himself, Nino cast a dry glance over to the corner where Adrien and Alya appeared to be talking. What a sap.

“It’s okay to be upset, ‘Nette,” Nino assured her with another squeeze to her shoulders before he dropped his hands. “You guys just broke up. I think it’s a little unreasonable for you to have to act like you have it all together right now.”

Again, Marinette pouted, as if she didn’t appreciate being accused of _not_ having it all together. Nino almost laughed, but he thought better of it, deciding that wounding Marinette’s substantial pride with a laugh was not a smart move.

“You don’t have to stay down here if you don’t want to,” he reminded her, turning to glance at the mob that still surrounded the happy couple. “I’m sure the newlyweds’ll understand if you just wanna send them a card or something later.”

“…I know,” Marinette replied, and Nino watched her curiously as she shifted from foot to foot, her eyes darting around the room. “I just…”

She trailed off without completing her thought, but the way her eyes scanned the room made Nino mighty suspicious…

“…Are you looking for Adrien?” He guessed. Marinette jumped, her huge eyes staring at him, as if he had plucked the answer right from her brain.

This time Nino _did_ laugh, because he couldn’t help it. Did she honestly think she was so sly? Oh boy, Alya was right—their two friends were hopeless.

“He’s over there,” he informed her, chuckling as he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, towards Adrien’s corner. Marinette leaned around him, stumbling a little at the odd angle, but managing to catch herself at the last minute. Once she seemed to spot him, Nino was further amused by the look of relief that momentarily crossed her face…but then confused when she promptly resumed her position against the wall. He blinked at her. “…What’re you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why were you looking for Adrien?”

Marinette shrugged, looking across the ballroom as if she wanted to appear aloof, confusing the hell out of Nino. “Just good to know where he is.” She glanced over at him as he stared at her, flushing a little. “What? I didn’t say I was gonna go over there or anything…”

“Wha—” Nino paused, inspecting the thin thread of tension laced through Marinette’s expression. Slowly, an idea began to form—a theory of sorts. It was a ridiculous theory, because Marinette was too grown for such behavior…but… “…Are you hoping Adrien will see you over here…and come to _you?_ ”

Marinette said nothing…but going scarlet in the face was telling enough.

Nino gaped at her.

“ _Marinette,_ ” he said, scandalized. Marinette huffed and stomped her foot, though Nino noticed that she distinctly refused to meet her eyes.

“What? What’s wrong with wanting him to approach me?”

Oh god, she did _not_ just ask him that…

“If you want to talk to him so badly, why don’t _you_ go over _there?_ ”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

“You so obviously do.”

“No I don’t!”

“Why not?”

“Because!” Marinette insisted, as if that settled the matter. Nino promptly employed one of Alya’s tactics when dealing with a stubborn Marinette, and just stared at her until she seemed to grow self-conscious enough to finally spit out the truth: “I don’t want to make the first move, okay?”

She didn’t want to make the first move? _Really?_

Nino sighed and rubbed the back of his head. He knew Alya was the Mom Friend of the group, but he didn’t really like how his position of Chill Uncle Friend had evolved into Dad Friend overnight…but nevertheless…

“Marinette,” Nino began, folding his arms as he gave her a serious look, “do you want to work things out with Adrien?”

“Maybe…?” More staring until Marinette gave in. “Okay, fine: yes, all right? I know we…things didn’t end well. But I still…”

“Then _go over there,_ ” Nino insisted with a sigh. Good lord, these two…he sympathized with Alya more and more each day.

“But—”

“What?” Nino challenged, throwing his eyebrows up. “You don’t want to make the first move? Why the hell _not?_ ”

“I…” Marinette shifted uncomfortably under Nino’s gaze, biting her lip. Nino waited, wanting to know what was so damn bad about Marinette daring to approach Adrien first.

After Nino had counted about ninety-three seconds in his head, Marinette finally gave him an answer that actually made sense.

“…I don’t like being so vulnerable…” she admitted, mumbling and flushing red as soon as the words were out, as if she had to sacrifice a huge chunk of her pride just to admit it out loud.

…Oh.

_Ohhh._

The picture was starting to clear at last…

Marinette must have taken Nino’s speculative silence negatively, for she sighed and dropped her gaze again, glancing up at him as she chewed on her lip.

“…That makes me sound like a brat, doesn’t it?” She asked with a cringe.

“A little,” Nino admitted, smiling in apology when Marinette’s face fell; he patted her shoulder again. “But if you account for all the times you were vulnerable with Adri— _Chat_ , and it came back to bite you…I can see where you’re coming from.”

The relief on Marinette’s face was so profound that Nino felt a little bad about chasing it away with his next words:

“But I still think you should go talk to him.”

“Nino—”

“I’m not gonna _make_ you or anything,” Nino assured her, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. “I’m just saying, it’s a good idea. Especially since I don’t think he’ll be the one to approach you this time. Dude probably thinks you want nothing more to do with him, after the way you rushed out of the wedding.”

This apparently hadn’t occurred to Marinette; the surprise that flashed across her face at this conclusion was so genuine that Nino found himself pitying her…though he didn’t dare admit it out loud.

“Nothing’s going to change if neither of you do anything to change it,” he said, tilting his head to the side as he inspected the way Marinette’s teeth worried her bottom lip, the fear and doubt in her eyes… “And if neither of you are willing to make the first move…then what will you do, Marinette?”

Marinette looked up at him, her blue eyes wide. It was almost as if he had asked her to move the world, with the way she was looking at him…but Nino supposed he understood. After all, both she and Adrien were impossibly stubborn in their own right, so maybe they both were tired of always trying to bear their heart to the other, only to get torn to shreds with a thoughtless word or action.

But they couldn’t let that fear rule them _forever_ , could they…?

There was a tap to Nino’s shoulder, and he turned, finding his fiancée there.

“‘Scuse me,” she said playfully, sliding an arm around Nino’s waist, her free hand occupied with a champagne glass as she winked at Marinette. “Hun, would you mind terribly if I stole my husband for the rest of the night?”

“Oh…no, not at all,” Marinette replied with a slight smile. “You two enjoy the reception. And, um, give Ivan and Myléne my congratulations, if you can.”

“Will do,” Alya promised, steering Nino away, onto the dance floor. It appeared to take her a moment to realize that he was staring at her; she raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“…You called me your husband,” Nino said, not quite sure what to do with this information. Alya smirked at this, sipping at her champagne.

“I guess I did,” she answered, completely at ease, which Nino felt was unfair, because he could feel himself growing warm under the collar just from the new label. “Might as well start getting used to calling you that, right?”

Nino slipped an arm around Alya as they reached a spot on the dance floor to sway to the music, plucking the flute glass from his fiancée’s grasp.

“And just how much of this have you had?”

“Not enough,” Alya replied with a roll of her eyes. “Our dumb friends, I swear to god…”

Nino hummed, taking a hearty gulp of champagne, promptly making a face afterwards. _Blegh._

Alya laughed at his expression.

“Don’t worry—I smuggled in a bottle of whiskey in my overnight bag,” she informed him with a wink.

“Babe, I love you,” Nino enthused, placing the half-empty champagne glass on a nearby table as they spun near it. Alya laughed again, the sound a little strained, for some odd reason…

“I hope you can still say that when I tell you this…”

Instantly, Nino was on-guard.

“Tell me what…?” He asked, eyeing her carefully. Alya’s hands were resting on Nino’s shoulders as they danced, and she gave them a squeeze now, as if to pre-emptively calm him.

“It’s not a big deal or anything…” She paused just long enough to make Nino’s blood pressure spike. “…Just that Adrien _might_ have figured out that I’m Vixen.”

“ _What?!_ ”

“Shh,” Alya urged him, smiling brightly at the swivel of heads that glanced over at them curiously.

“How did Adrien figure out you’re Vixen?” Nino demanded to know, though he demanded this information in a low tone to minimize eavesdropping. Alya frowned, plucking at the chain of her Fox Miraculous.

“I _might_ have said something that sounded too fox-ish for him to ignore it. Still, I might’ve had plausible deniability…if it weren’t for my pendant, which somehow wormed its way out of the top of my dress,” she said, patting the neckline of her dress. Nino sucked his teeth.

“I _told_ you to take it off.”

“And I told _you_ that if you get to keep yours on, then so do I,” Alya shot back, and Nino sighed. She peered up at him, concern entering her gaze. “…Sorry. I didn’t mean for him to get suspicious.”

“It’s fine,” Nino decided, though he shook his head slightly. “Just means that we’ll have to bring ‘Nette into the loop as well…”

“Well, we can wait on that,” Alya insisted, smirking as she nodded at something to the side. Nino followed her line of vision, and it was with no small amount of relief that he registered Marinette making her way across the ballroom to Adrien’s corner, anxiousness and determination warring in her expression. As they watched her progress, Alya said to Nino with a giggle,

“I think they have enough on their plates right now, don’t you?”

Nino couldn’t agree more if he tried.

 

* * *

 

She didn’t want to do this. Every ounce of pride she still retained was screaming at her that she should not stoop to this, that it wasn’t her fault, that she should _not_ have to be the one to fix what _he_ broke.

She really, really, _really_ did not want to do this…

But if she didn’t…would that make her happy?

Even if Adrien _did_ approach her first, would it mean that Marinette won? That she was somehow the victor in this mess?

 _Were_ there even any winners to be had in the first place…?

Marinette bit her lip, her nails digging into the palms of her hands. The question from before still whirled around and around in her head, yet to be answered: which was more important? Her pride, or her happiness…?

She swallowed, her eyes focused on Adrien’s hunched form in the corner of the ballroom. Whether she was ready or not…it was time to answer that question.

Taking a deep breath, Marinette squared her shoulders and made herself walk over there, every step much harder than the last, because her mind fought her with every step that brought her nearer to him, a gravitational pull that refused to release her, despite her half-hearted attempts to flee from it.

‘ _This is a mistake,_ ’ a sinister voice in her mind that didn’t sound anything like Alya whispered, threading dread through her heart at its presence. ‘ _You shouldn’t have to be the one to step up and try to fix things. You’ve been hurt by him so many times…why should_ you _always have to be the bigger person? Doesn’t he care about_ you _enough to step up himself?_ ’

‘ _It’s more complicated than that,_ ’ Marinette argued with herself, though her teeth sunk further into her lip. ‘ _It shouldn’t matter who approaches who first, as long as we’re both willing to work through this, right?_ ’

‘ _What if he_ doesn’t _want to work through it?_ ’ Asked the voice, and a chill went through Marinette as she realized that it was _Shade’s_ voice she was hearing. She glanced around, horrified, but didn’t see the villain anywhere, nor could she fathom a reason for her presence…was Marinette’s own mind messing with her…? ‘ _What if he laughs at you when you go over there? What if he ignores you, like you no longer exist? What if—_ ’

‘ _STOP IT!_ ’ Marinette screamed at herself, squeezing her eyes shut as she concentrated on forcing all the negativity out of her head. ‘ _Worrying about every little thing that could go wrong here won’t get me anywhere! Even if I’m scared, the only way I lose is if I stop trying! So_ shut up _and let me do this!_ ’

Silence.

Thank god—Marinette was already under enough stress without arguing with the shadow of her former friend/nemesis trying to feed her doubts and fears. (Marinette made a note to herself to maybe consider booking a session with Ivan herself, when she could afford it.)

She was only a few steps from Adrien now. He seemed not to notice her—from what she saw of his profile, he looked like he was concentrating on something so hard, his life might depend on it. Marinette made herself breathe deep, counting the seconds as she exhaled. One…two…three…okay.

As she took another step forward, she watched with curiosity as Adrien suddenly stood, his hands braced against the table. He appeared to be scowling, and Marinette faltered in her approach, wondering if this was a bad time. As she watched, Adrien closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and spun on his heel, looking like he intended to go somewhere—

He stopped short when he noticed Marinette, his eyes widening and his mouth coming open, as if he hadn’t expected to see her here at all. This did not help Marinette to be less self-conscious, and she fidgeted, unable to tear her gaze away from him as he stood awkwardly in front of her, his hands flexing. With a jolt, Marinette spotted the charm bracelet— _her_ charm bracelet—hooked around his right wrist, just above his ring, like it had never left. Maybe it hadn’t.

And maybe it was just Marinette, but as she stood there, apart from Adrien, she could almost _feel_ the tension in the air between them, every word they’d hurled at each other, and everything still left unsaid between them, creating air so thick that Marinette felt she could almost reach out and touch it, and her fingers would meet against the barrier dividing her and Adrien.

As she stared at him now, she felt her mouth go dry, and she cursed herself inwardly. It was so typical for her to march herself over here, only to choke the moment it counted. At times like these, she tried relying on the inner strength that came from being Ladybug, but when it was Adrien she was facing—when it was _Chat Noir_ she was facing—Marinette suddenly didn’t know what to do. Where did she go from here…?

Marinette was set to panic in this downward spiral…but then something broke through that panic…a familiar melody…

Marinette’s head swiveled, staring at the colorful DJ who had suddenly started playing this slow, jazzy number for the couples in the room to dance to. She could see Ivan and Myléne revolving slowly in the center of the dance floor, as well as Alya and Nino, Kim and Max, Juleka and Rose, Chloé and Nathanael…

It was clear this melody was a slow song for the lovers, but Marinette didn’t need all the couples spinning on the dance floor to know that, for this song was the very first song she and Adrien had danced to, just a couple months ago, on a night chillier than tonight, a night for lovers...the night that everything had changed between them, in more ways than one…

Slowly, Marinette brought her gaze back to Adrien, knowing that he was remembering too, just from the look on his face. With a slow, hesitant smile…she held out her hand.

“Dance with me?”

She just barely heard Adrien’s breath catch, and his lips slowly curved to match her smile, awkward and unsure, but desperate, _so_ desperate to make contact…

Marinette held her breath, waiting as Adrien lifted his hand, his fingers twitching in the air between them, but moving closer, despite the uncertainty, despite the pain still present in his eyes, despite _everything_ …

His fingers slid over hers, the warmth of his palm pressed against hers, and Marinette felt like she could properly breathe again.

She looked up, smiling whole-heartedly now, and Adrien’s face flushed, his lips stretching to match her smile once again.

“You won’t let me fall, right?” He asked her, and Marinette almost laughed, because all he seemed to do was quote her own words back at her today, though they always seemed to hold more weight coming from him.

Marinette’s fingers tightened around his hand, and she let her expression grow serious as she gazed up at him.

“Never,” she replied, letting the weight of her emotions soak into her tone. Adrien flushed anew, and Marinette briefly worried if she was making him uncomfortable, if it was too soon…but then he nodded, squeezing her hand back, keeping her gaze the whole time as they made their way onto the dance floor.

Even though there was a lot they still had left to say to each other, neither of them said a word as they revolved slowly on the spot, arms wrapped around each other, lost in the others’ eyes. And, mysteriously, it worked. They didn’t need to speak in this moment—it was as if they understood each other perfectly, even without the words, like they had somehow gained the power to read minds, but only each other’s. In his eyes, Marinette saw a multitude of emotions, all blending together so much that it was hard to pinpoint a single emotion, but she didn’t need to, because everything he was feeling, she felt, too. She shared in his pain, wallowed in his misery, sighed in his relief, and in the strongest emotion she saw there, the emotion she dared not to name, for it would undo her and rob her of all her courage before they could commit to fully fixing what broke between them—

Marinette hid her face in Adrien’s vest, feeling her face catch fire. His arms wound around her, holding her closer; she could feel his cheek press against her temple, his breath brushing past her ear as he sighed. Knowing that he was so at peace with her right here, right now, sent warmth all through Marinette, her heart throbbing, fit to burst. When the song ended in favor of a catchier ditty, Marinette pulled back, locking her gaze with Adrien’s once again.

“…Can we talk?” She asked softly, realizing a second too late that Adrien probably couldn’t hear her over the music. But just as she was about to ask again, he nodded.

“Yeah,” he agreed fervently. Feeling herself flush again, Marinette was glad of an excuse to turn her back to him for a moment, taking his hand again as she led them off the dance floor, opening the purse still slung across her body to grab the key for her room.

They happened to pass by Alya and Nino before they made it off the dance floor; Alya stepped forward just as Marinette pulled her hand out of her purse. Before Marinette could tell her that now was not the time, Alya withdrew something from her pocket and slipped it into Marinette’s purse, snapping the clasp shut for her. Marinette froze, blinking at her best friend.

“What did you—”

“You’ll thank me later,” Alya assured her with a wink before she slunk away again. Marinette watched as Alya went back to the shelter of Nino’s arms, wondering if she should be concerned about the sly look on her best friend’s face…but then she remembered that she had more important things to worry about, and she pushed the matter from her mind.

It didn’t take long to get back to her room—she had been fortunate enough to snag a room on the first floor of the hotel. As she keyed into the room and flicked on the lights, Marinette almost poked her head in to tell Tikki to hide before she remembered who she had with her. She shook her head at herself. Despite all her suffering for the past week, it was somehow so easy to forget that Adrien knew everything now…

“Marinette, are you—oh!” Tikki squeaked from where she had been sitting on the coffee table in the room, catching sight of Adrien. “Adrien! How nice to see you!”

“Uh, thanks,” Adrien replied, sounding a little awkward as he rubbed the back of his head. “You too, Tikki.”

Tikki beamed at him, and Marinette found herself smiling, wondering just when Tikki had become so fond of Adrien. Maybe it was something the kwami picked up from her.

As she turned and shut the door behind them, there was a shifting of fabric behind her, and she heard a drawling voice speak:

“So, should we expect another shouting match from you two? Or will you actually have productive character development this time around?”

“Plagg,” Tikki said in a reproving voice, and Marinette turned to find her kwami zooming into the air to scowl at the black cat kwami suddenly in their midst. “Be nice.”

“Being nice is _your_ thing,” Plagg corrected her, closing one eye lazily. “Being belligerent is mine.”

Adrien sighed and rubbed at his temple. Idly, Marinette wondered if this was routine for them.

“Actually, I think some privacy would be appreciated this time around,” Marinette said, giving the kwami in the room a significant look. “Could you two—?”

“Of course, Marinette,” Tikki answered immediately, grabbing Plagg’s tail and tugging him after her when he showed every sign of remaining.

“Thanks, Tikki,” Marinette called after her as she and Plagg disappeared into the bathroom. She felt a little bad; they probably wouldn’t be very entertained in there while she and Adrien spent the night talking…but there was no help for it. If anything, Marinette trusted Tikki to keep Plagg out of trouble while she and Adrien worked to un-complicate this thing between them…hopefully…

Carefully, Marinette took off her heels, tossing them to the side as she made her way further into the room, heading for the bed. As she sat down, she slid off the chain attached to her purse. Momentary curiosity over what Alya had slipped in there earlier had her peeking inside…

‘ _Oh for—_ ’

The exasperated thought couldn’t even be finished—Marinette hurriedly shut her purse again and shoved it onto her nightstand, feeling her face burn and hating it. But really, what was Alya _thinking_ , slipping condoms into Marinette’s purse?! What about their faces as they were leaving suggested the need for them?! Marinette _so_ did not need this right now, and she was going to ring Alya’s neck for this later…

Clearing her throat, Marinette glanced up, noticing with some surprise that Adrien was still standing near the door, looking awkward.

Right…this was the hard part, wasn’t it?

Marinette took a deep breath, and then gestured to the space on the bed next to her.

“Would you…like to sit down?”

Adrien jolted, as if Marinette had surprised him; she frowned at the flush that painted his face. Just what was he embarrassed about…?

“Oh…okay…” he agreed, clearing his throat as he walked to the bed, his posture perfect—a sign that he was stressed. As he sank down on the edge of the bed, his back was ramrod straight, his hands balled into fists as they rested on his knees. He looked so wound up…

Recognizing this, Marinette decided to start first…now, where to begin…

“…I’m sorry about Monday,” she said softly, deciding it was best to start small. “I shouldn’t have pushed you and Nino like that. I should’ve waited until you were ready to know.”

There was silence, save for Marinette’s uncomfortable shifting on the bed, the fabric of her dress sliding against the comforter in a noisy way. She cringed, wishing Adrien would say something, _anything…_

“…Why _did_ you decide to let go of that little secret that night?” Adrien asked.

Marinette sighed. Anything but _that,_ she wanted to whine. But no, she had gotten herself into this situation…she had to take responsibility, to own up to everything…

In a voice much smaller than the last, she owned up to the shameful reason:

“I…I wanted to hurt you.”

“…”

Marinette chanced a glance over at Adrien, biting her lip as he stared straight ahead, his face impassive. The ambiguity of his expression did not concern nor comfort her, and she could only sit there, waiting until he finished processing…

Adrien sighed, and his perfect posture was exhaled as well; he slumped over, his elbows resting on his knees now as he stared at the floor.

“…Well, you’ll be happy to know that it worked,” he replied, a note of sarcasm in his voice. And he was right—rather than making Marinette happy, it devastated her.

“Adrien,” she began, reaching for him—oh, but she had no right to touch him. She dropped her hands, clenching them into fists in her lap. “Adrien, I’m sorry. I—at the time, I thought it would be better for you and Nino to know, but I…” she swallowed. “Tikki made me realize that what I did was wrong. That I had no right, after making you wait and wait to t-talk about me…about us…but then f-forcing you and Shell to…and I didn’t even ask—”

“Marinette,” Adrien interrupted, and Marinette noticed that he was looking at her now, his brow furrowed as he stared at her…why was he looking at her like that?

Adrien’s frown grew more pronounced and he raised a hand, hesitating for the briefest moment…before he let his fingertips brush against her cheek.

“Don’t cry,” he said softly, his thumb dragging across her cheekbone.

Marinette blinked. She wasn’t crying. She had spent a good half-hour crying up here already. Surely she was all cried out by now…

Adrien drew his hand back, and Marinette’s breath hitched when she saw the wetness there, proof of her tears for all to see. With a groan, she promptly buried her face in her hands.

“Oh my _god,_ ” she moaned, utterly miserable. Adrien let out a soft chuckle, which only humiliated her further. Adrien seemed to realize that; she felt him shift closer to her, gently tugging her hands from her face.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, the strength of such an apology burning in his eyes. “I’m not laughing because you’re crying. I’m laughing because…well, I’m relieved.”

Marinette sniffled, giving him a questioning look.

“R-relieved…?”

“Yeah,” Adrien said, digging his new handkerchief out of his pocket and offering it to her. Marinette pursed her lips; she would hate to ruin his new handkerchief with runny make-up, but once she remembered that he could probably afford a million handkerchiefs, she accepted it with a small thanks and began to dab at her wet eyes. “The way you left earlier…after the stunt I pulled—well, I thought…I thought you stormed off because you were mad at me.”

“I _am_ mad,” Marinette mumbled, though it could not be clearer that her heart was not in the words. “What were you trying to do there? And why did you drag Ivan and his vows into this?”

“I didn’t,” Adrien denied, his eyes widening as he raised his hands, as if Marinette was about to charge. “Ivan finished his vows a month ago.”

“Then explain how he used _my_ words from the tower the first patrol after—” Marinette’s tongue curled in on itself; speaking of her superhero relationship with Adrien, out in the open, was still a bit difficult for her. Adrien caught her hesitance, and his jaw tightened, as if he was actively trying to prevent himself from starting a fight. For a moment, they just stared at each other.

Marinette let out a breath. This was hopeless—if she _still_ wasn’t comfortable talking to Adrien about all this, then why had she brought him up here in the first place?

A selfish part of her brain blamed it on him once again: he looked too much like Adrien right now for her to see him as Chat properly…

…Wait a minute…

Marinette got to her feet. As she moved forward, across the room, she felt a ghost of a touch on her hand.

“Marinette…?”

“Hold on,” she urged him, striding purposefully towards the door. Once there, she took a deep breath to fortify her spirit…and then she flicked the light switch off.

The bright light in the room died, and Marinette breathed again, turning around.

Only moonlight was present in the darkness of the room, and while that sent an unpleasant chill down her spine, because she couldn’t help but be reminded of Shade, Marinette didn’t let the fear consume her. Because there Chat Noir was, sitting on her bed. He didn’t have his costume on, of course, but the way his eyes glowed in the light of the moon still put her at ease, the familiarity giving her courage to move back over to him, sitting a little closer than she had been.

Chat—Adrien—oh, what was the difference?—he watched her the whole time, seeming to register the change that overcame her, though from the look on his face, Marinette could tell that he had no idea what it was supposed to mean. She didn’t bother letting him dwell on it—focusing on his eyes, she began again.

“…Why did Ivan use my words from that night of patrol, after you finally came back to me?” She asked him directly. Here Adrien blushed, glancing away from her as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well…I had been helping him with his vows for some time,” he admitted. “He was trying to put to words exactly how he felt about Myléne, about how he’d always be there for her, even when things got rough, since no marriage is perfect…and I just…the words just came out.”

Marinette stared at him, quietly amused at the blush climbed all the way up to his forehead. He…was really cute. _Damn_ it.

“…Does Ivan know you didn’t come up with those words on your own?” She couldn’t help but tease him. Adrien cleared his throat.

“Of course,” he answered, surprising Marinette. “He complimented me, so I had to tell him that the words actually weren’t mine. But he said he liked them, because it was the exact same way he felt about Myléne, even when they have their arguments…” Adrien’s gaze finally returned to her, and he smiled slightly. “Who was I to tell him he couldn’t use them?”

“But it’s not like he actually wrote the vows himself then, is it?”

“Honestly? If the feelings behind them are real, who cares where he got the words?”

Marinette didn’t have a counter-argument for that—and it wasn’t all that important anyway—so she let it drop and moved on.

“…I rushed out of the wedding to cry,” she admitted to Adrien, dropping her gaze to her lap as she felt her face burn with shame. “I couldn’t figure out why…I mean, for all I knew, you could’ve been playing with me, to hurt me like I hurt you. I didn’t understand…”

Warmth cupped her cheeks, and Marinette’s head was lifted, once again meeting those beautiful green eyes she loved so much, eyes that were currently wracked with guilt.

“No, Marinette, I…I didn’t mean to hurt you today.” He looked away, shame crossing his features. “That night…when I shouted at you for murdering my father…I wanted to hurt you _then._ I know now you were just trying to explain how you felt about the whole thing with AVA, but I just assumed that you didn’t care about me, and I didn’t let you explain at all…and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

Marinette hiccupped, feeling another wave of tears pushing at her eyes. At this rate, she was going to shrivel up and die, with how much she had been crying today…but these tears felt more refreshing than the previous ones.

“You…don’t actually believe I’m…I’m a murderer?”

“Of _course not,_ ” Adrien huffed, closing his eyes as he bumped his forehead against hers. “I was _there_ , My Lady. I saw how what happened ate at you…and yet, your first thought was _me._ ” He opened his eyes, _marveling_ at her, as if he couldn’t believe such a creature like her existed. “…Why?”

That’s right: he had been there that night. He had seen, with his own eyes, the decision that altered the course of their lives forever…

And yet, he still came back to her. He had sought her out to tell her he _loved_ her…

Marinette swallowed.

He knew the answer to this question already, didn’t he? Surely he didn’t need her to spell it out…

Adrien stared at her, his eyes beseeching, desperate…much in the same way they were when he had thrashed her first design, and she had pushed back at him, calling him cruel and unlike himself…

_“Really, Marinette…can you really say that you ever knew me at all...?”_

Yes. Yes she could. She just hadn’t known _how_ well back then…

It was almost amazing, how easy the words were to say now, despite that maybe now wasn’t the best time, despite the fact that this was the first time they had properly spoken to each other in weeks, despite the mess they were slowly working to unravel, bit by bit:

“…Because I loved you, Chat.”

Adrien’s eyes widened. He sat there, dumbstruck, but Marinette could see the emotions rapidly spinning through his expression, though they flashed by too quickly to leave a lasting impression until…

Adrien closed his eyes and let out a breath, sitting back and dropping his hands from her face. The warmth was missed immediately.

“…You didn’t know who I was back then, Marinette.”

“Yes I did,” Marinette insisted, apparently sounding so confident that Adrien’s eyes opened immediately, his eyebrows shooting up. “It’s true, I didn’t know it was you at the time…but I still _knew_ you, Adrien.” Feeling bold, she poked his nose. “It was just that neither of us knew at the time.”

He seemed to need a moment to process that; Marinette waited, watching as his brow furrowed, his eyes shifting, as if he was looking for a way around her logic. When he finally glanced up at her again, his expression was…confused.

“…But you _didn’t_ love Chat…” he said softly. Though he tried to bury it, Marinette could still see it: that longsuffering sadness in his eyes, his affections for his Lady always rejected. Though Marinette had had no idea that he had ever been serious, now she knew better, and it pained her to see that deep ache he had carried with him all this time. Wishing to rectify it, she scooted closer to him again, and now it was _her_ hands that slid over _his_ cheeks, locking eyes with him.

“I didn’t know how you felt back then, _chaton,_ ” she admitted, though it was shameful to. Some partner she had been, not even realizing his feelings for her… “If I had known…I don’t know. I don’t know what would have happened...maybe things would have been different.”

But there was no point dwelling on the ‘maybes’ or ‘what ifs’, and so Marinette banished them from her mind, choosing to focus on the here and now.

“The point is that I _did_ know you, that I’ve always known you, Chat…and…”

Oh god, she _so_ wanted to break gazes, her face was on fire, the whole _room_ was _much_ too warm, but if she didn’t say it now, if she _dared_ to say the word ‘later’ to him again—

Marinette bit down, snapping the bullet in her mouth in half.

“…and I’ve always… _always_ loved you.”

The air stilled.

Adrien’s lips parted, but it appeared he didn’t actually have anything to say—he just _stared_ at her, as if she had lost her mind. And frankly, Marinette was beginning to feel that way; the way he looked at her left her nervous, after baring her heart to him…why wasn’t he saying anything?!

Her mind panicked and overloaded; she dropped her hands from his face and words began to spill from her, as uncontrollable as her desire to fill this _horrible_ silence—

“A-and I know I probably don’t have any right to say this to you now—I know I ruined things between us with my hesitance, and I’m _so_ sorry I hurt you by making you think I don’t trust you, but that’s not true at _all_ , Chat, I _really_ do trust you, and I would do anything to prove it, to get us back to how we were, and I’m so, _so_ sorry, Chat, I’m sorry, I’m—”

Adrien’s thumb bumped into Marinette’s lips. She stilled at the contact, staring at him as he seemed to get himself together…or it looked like he was _trying_ to. He seemed to be having trouble; he opened and closed his mouth several times, swallowing heavily as his face burned in the moonlight. Finally, after a minute or two, he took a deep, shuddering breath, glowing green eyes focused on her as he said, in a voice that was strangled:

“…Say that again.”

Marinette blinked, unable to keep up with the shift of his emotions. Why was he looking at her like that…?

“…I’m sorry?” She tried. Adrien shook his head, displacing his hair with the motion. Marinette nearly choked; he had Chat hair now.

“Before that,” he insisted, still regarding her in that strange, intense way that somehow brought a blush to her face. Marinette swallowed and tried again.

“I trust you…?”

“Good to know, but _before that,_ _Marinette._ ”

The way he stared at her, with a look so anxious it almost seemed painful, finally tipped Marinette off.

“I…I love you,” she repeated herself, _hating_ the flush that burned her face, but she refused to look away, refused to be embarrassed. It was the truth, after all.

Adrien stared at her some more, but this silence didn’t last nearly as long as the previous one.

“You love me?” He asked softly, as if he wanted to make sure, as if his ears were not to be trusted. Marinette laughed a little and nodded.

“Yes, I love you. I’ve loved you for so long, Adrien. I’m sorry it took so long to tell you, but I do. I l—”

The words were lost, swallowed up by Adrien’s lips as he suddenly lunged at her, crushing his mouth to hers. Marinette gasped at the sudden contact, falling back from the momentum, but even though it was sudden and unexpected, Marinette didn’t care. She kissed him back just as fiercely, so finally _relieved_ to be rid of this tension that she couldn’t find it in herself to care about anything that didn’t involve her kissing Adrien, his lips so soft that she was _melting_ , her head spinning from lack of air, but she didn’t care, she could happily _die_ in this moment, drowning in Adrien—

“I love you.”

The words were ragged, rasped against her neck as Adrien broke for air; she could feel him shivering.

“I love you, Marinette. I love you. I love you. _I love you._ ”

Each whispered word of devotion thrilled down Marinette’s spine, and she buried her hands in Adrien’s hair to kiss him long, hard, and senseless.

“I love you, too,” she mumbled in between breaths and desperate kisses, interrupting his continued stream of love confessions. “Adrien—Chat—I love you so much.”

“My Lady, I am _so_ in love with you,” Adrien breathed, because he just _had_ to top her. “I always have been. I always will be. I love you. I love you.”

Scratch her previous statement— _now_ Marinette could die happy.

 

* * *

 

Maybe it was because he was touch-starved, not having much physical affection growing up and only having a serious girlfriend very recently.

Maybe it was because he knew what he wanted was finally within his grasp, and that just made him impatient.

Maybe it was just that he was every bit of the greedy, spoiled rich boy the worst of the tabloids painted him as.

Whatever it was, it was clear: Adrien could not get close enough to Marinette fast enough.

Even when the clothes went flying, and he was able to explore her— _fully_ explore her—for the first time, his hands trailing down the freckled skin of her bare body, it wasn’t enough.

Even when she touched him, stroking him and kissing him everywhere, drawing noises from him that he didn’t even know where _possible,_ it wasn’t enough.

And even when she produced a condom from her purse, her face burning at his intrigued look, muttering something about Alya and her meddling—even when she said she was ready for him and Adrien carefully, _so_ carefully, slid inside her, _fascinated_ by the way her face changed as he did, her eyes squeezing shut, her mouth opening, as she breathed, the way she shivered and _tightened_ around him—it was _not enough._

‘ _More,_ ’ his body seemed to croon, seeming to ache from his core as he rocked his hips forward, his head dropping to suck at Marinette’s neck, tingling with the breathy moans that escaped her, burning with the whispered encouragements she gave him as her hands pressed into his back, that he was doing good, _so_ good—

“Ah! Adri— _Chat!_ ” Marinette cried after Adrien gave a particularly rough thrust. He hadn’t meant to—it just felt _so good_ that he couldn’t help himself. He froze, wondering if he’d hurt her, but then she was whining, kissing him greedily, her legs locked around his waist.

“Don’t stop,” she moaned, and a chill shot down Adrien’s spine as she _clawed at his back—_ “ _Please, chaton, don’t stop!_ ”

Oh, it was agony—hearing her cry his name like that, beg him for more, to allow herself to be so utterly vulnerable with him in this moment…

‘ _MORE!_ ’ His body cried in unison, and Adrien groaned low in his throat, resuming his pace, unable to help his jerky movements, because this was his first time, and it felt too good, and he didn’t know how long he’d be able to keep this up—

Marinette’s voice kept getting louder, climbing higher, each octave creating a beautiful melody that embedded itself into Adrien’s soul. He was _desperate_ for those sounds, hungry for them—when each thrust brought him a new, more beautiful sound, he _relished_ in it, a beautiful song, sung by his Lady, the love of his life, sung just for him—

Ohhh, he was getting close. He could feel it—he wouldn’t last much longer.

“M-Marinette…” he groaned, but it was all he could get out, the rest of the words drowned in a hiss as Marinette suddenly seized up, her back arching, her mouth opening—

And then she sung the highest note yet, absolutely _shattering_ in his arms. Adrien was not able to withstand the blast—what mortal man could? She dragged him right over the edge with her, and he clutched at her hand as he came, gripping it tight, as if he would lose himself without being anchored to her. She clung to him as if her life depended on it, hugging him as he collapsed against her, gasping for air. That ache inside him, finally sated, transformed into something warmer, tingling through his skin as Marinette trailed her fingers through his hair. His chest rumbled as he purred, approving of the gesture. Marinette giggled.

“Good kitty,” she teased him, sounding almost as happy as he felt, because there was no way she was as blissful as Adrien was in this moment. Nope, he was the happiest right now. Everyone else could go home.

“Mmm,” Adrien hummed, nosing under Marinette’s jaw, giving the hand he still held a slight squeeze. She returned his squeeze, and Adrien felt his heart soar. It was almost as if the last week had never happened…

Adrien blinked his blurry eyes open, his happiness balloon suddenly gaining a puncture, slowly deflating.

…As much as he might want to pretend otherwise, last week _had_ happened. It would be wrong to just ignore it, to pretend that it would go away if he just averted his eyes…

With an annoyed grunt that was directed at himself, Adrien sat up, propping himself up on his elbows as he gazed down at Marinette. She was beautiful in the moonlight—her skin was nearly bleached white, save for those tiny dots of color embedded there, her own personal constellations. Her hair shone nearly blue, and her eyes were even bluer, almost glowing. She stared back up at him, sweat beading her forehead, her chest slowly rising and falling, regaining her breath. Beautiful.

Something about his expression must have been off, however; her brow furrowed as she gazed up at him, her free hand reaching up to cup his cheek.

“ _Chaton?_ ”

God, how he loved that nickname. Adrien clutched her hand to his cheek, pressing a kiss to her palm. As much as he wanted to continue to revel in their lovemaking…this had to be said. He needed to say it, just so that everything was clear…

After a deep breath, Adrien met his lover’s—partner’s—eyes.

“…I’m sorry I hurt you, Marinette.”

After a moment, a corner of Marinette’s mouth turned up.

“I know…I’m sorry for hurting you too, Adrien. It won’t happen again.”

“So from now on, we’ll make it a point to talk to each other about the big stuff?”

“The little stuff, too,” Marinette added, taking her hand from his cheek to trace his lips. “Like how I _really_ want you to kiss me again…”

Adrien smirked.

“Don’t distract me,” he playfully chided her, reclaiming her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. “There’s one more thing I have to say.”

Marinette pouted, but when Adrien gave her a look, she sighed and stuck out her tongue before settling her expression into one of polite interest.

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“Marinette.”

“Adrien?”

Adrien smiled, leaning down to press his lips to Marinette’s forehead.

“My Lady…”

“ _Chaton,_ ” Marinette returned easily, and Adrien’s smile widened.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Ah, bliss. If there would be a moment in Adrien’s life that would top this one, he was hard-pressed to believe it. Unless it involved Marinette—wherever Adrien chased his bliss, she would always be there.

Always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look at that. They made up. Guess all's well that ends we--
> 
> Oh wait.
> 
> We have one more chapter, don't we?
> 
> Yes, I believe we do.
> 
> :D
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	36. Finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is here.
> 
> Enjoy~
> 
> ~Reyna

Marinette awoke that morning feeling more rested than she had in what felt like ages. She laid there, her eyes still closed, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It was rather cheesy, she supposed, to quietly muse over the peace of the moment, of the way the birds chirped outside as sunbeams warmed her face, a gentle waking, the way her mother used to wake her when she was a child. Marinette wanted to bathe in the warm beams, stretch luxuriously across her bed…but her movements were kind of limited at the moment, thanks to the weight on top of her.

Marinette let her eyes flutter open, taking in a mop of messy blonde hair just under her chin. She giggled a little, teasing the locks with her fingers, wondering if it would be enough to get the hair to behave. There was a rumbling against her stomach, and Marinette paused.

“Adrien?” She said softly, unsure of whether or not he was awake. If he wasn’t, she didn’t want to disturb him, but if he was…

There was a sigh, and Adrien snuggled closer to her.

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled. Marinette snickered.

“No rush, _chaton,_ ” she assured him with a quick glance to the alarm clock next to her bed. “We still have an hour before I have to check out.”

Despite there being no rush, Adrien still sat up a little, his eyelashes brushing his cheeks as he blinked sleepily. Marinette grinned at the state his hair was in, running her fingers through it again. Adrien closed his eyes and let her, rumbling in approval.

“Morning,” he said softly, his voice rough with sleep. Marinette giggled and leaned up to peck his lips.

“Morning,” she answered, letting a lazy smile cross her face. Adrien returned her smile, nuzzling his cheek against hers. ‘ _Overgrown cat,_ ’ Marinette thought affectionately.

“What time is it?”

“Nine.”

“And you said we had an hour…?”

“Yeah…?” Marinette blinked as Adrien pulled back, registering the sudden sultry shift in his expression.

“Hmm...I wonder: what could we do for a whole hour before you have to check out…?”

Marinette was about to point out that they couldn’t take the _whole_ hour to do the sinful things Adrien clearly had in mind—she needed time to shower, dress and pack, after all—but the protest was swallowed as Adrien kissed her, and quite soon, Marinette found the whole ‘check-out’ thing to be a non-issue. So she would be a little late, so what? It wasn’t like she had anywhere to be—

“MARINETTE!” Cried Nino as he abruptly crashed into the room, throwing open the door so hard it bounced into the wall behind it. “We have a situa—oh _shit I’m so sorry!_ ” He yelped, realizing too late that Marinette was not alone—and _naked_ —in here; he threw his hands over his face as Adrien and Marinette scrambled for further cover under the bedsheets.

“Nino, what the _hell?!_ ” Marinette shrieked, feeling herself blush from head to toe. “What are you—how did you even get in here?!”

“Alya gave me the spare key card to your hotel room,” Nino explained, keeping one hand firmly clamped over his eyes and under his glasses as he held up the evidence for Marinette to see for herself. Ah, damn it…she had forgotten all about that spare key card…

“Okay, but, why are you barging in here without even _knocking_ like there’s some kind of emergency?” She shot at him. The lower half of Nino’s face cringed.

“Because there _is_ an emergency,” he insisted. Marinette waited, but Nino didn’t elaborate further. Instead, he blindly felt his way back to the door, adding hastily, “But, uh, we should probably have this conversation when you’re both, uh, not…bare.”

He cleared his throat, successfully locating the door and stepping back out into the hall.

“Just, uh, throw on what you can and come upstairs to me and Alya’s room. And hurry, all right?”

When Nino shut the door behind him, Marinette glanced over at Adrien, sharing his bewildered look.

“What do you think that was about…?” He asked, and Marinette gave him credit for how casual he worked to sound, but she could see it: that glint of trepidation in his eyes that was beginning to creep into her system as well, effectively ruining the afterglow from the night before. Whatever Nino had to tell them, it was obvious that it was nothing good.

With a frown, Marinette threw off her sheet and snatched up her dress from where it was discarded the night before. She had more comfortable clothes with her, but Nino had said to dress fast, so…

“We’d better go find out,” she said grimly. Adrien nodded, smoothing a hand through his hair as he got up to get dressed as well. Marinette was tempted to watch him, almost sad that that toned body had to be covered up…but no, now was not the time.

“I’ll go get Tikki and Plagg,” she mumbled, moving over to the bathroom to retrieve the kwamis. Call it experience, or call it intuition…but Marinette had a very strong feeling that they would be needing the help of the tiny gods of creation and destruction. And soon.

 

* * *

 

Alya only tore her gaze away from the television when Nino returned…alone. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Where’s Marinette?”

“She’s com—wait, no,” Nino paused, and Alya’s other brow raised as her fiancée turned ruddy. “I mean, uh…she’s on her way.” He rubbed the back of his head as he moved closer, joining Alya in front of the TV. “She, uh…wasn’t alone.”

It didn’t take long for Alya to realize what Nino was implying. She grinned a wicked grin.

“Atta girl,” she said to herself, nodding in approval. “I knew she’d put those condoms to good use.”

“You could’ve warned me, y’know,” Nino griped.

“Why? Didn’t you knock before you let yourself in?”

He didn’t answer, but it didn’t matter—his expression told Alya everything she needed to know. She smirked and folded her arms, opening her mouth to tease him—

“If you didn’t knock first, it sounds like you were just asking for trouble, tod,” Trixx piped up, popping out from under Alya’s hair. Nino scowled at the pair of them.

“Figures you’d get a kwami who’s just like you,” he grumbled. Alya grinned, stepping forward to stretch on her toes and kiss his cheek.

“Best mistake you ever made, baby.”

Nino grumbled something about not being able to afford mistakes as Guardian, but before Alya could chide him, she was interrupted once again by a kwami.

“Actually, I do not believe it was a mistake,” Wayzz said, emerging from Nino’s pocket to calmly rest upon his Chosen’s shoulder. “It seems that Fate merely sought to intervene. Do not be discouraged, Nino: all is as it should be. You are an excellent Guardian.”

Nino blushed, and Alya grinned. While her contact with Wayzz had been limited, she could safely say that she adored him—he never had a bad thing to say about Nino, and was there to encourage him when he was putting too much weight on his shoulders. Becoming a superhero just might be one of the greatest things that could have happened to her fiancée, and Alya was so grateful to be able to witness it up close. Especially now, when they were about to face their biggest challenge yet…

There was an insistent knock at the door.

“Nino? Alya? We’re here,” came Marinette’s voice through the door.

“What’s going on?” Adrien’s voice added. As Nino moved to answer the door, Alya turned her attention back to the television, a scowl crossing her face as she watched the chaos unfold.

“Alya?”

Marinette’s voice was nearer. Alya spared her a glance, suppressing the smirk that threatened to cross her face as she took in Marinette’s appearance—in the dress from the night before, huh? Oh, the jokes she could make…sadly, this was not the time.

“Look,” was all Alya said, stepping to the side to allow Marinette a better view. Adrien, who had just finished exchanging a greeting with Nino, joined her, and Alya watched their faces grimly as the news channel continued its live broadcast:

“…all-out war, here in Paris today. The entity known as Shade struck late last night, and since then, we have been dealing with an army of akumatized victims destroying Paris.”

‘Destroying’ was, sadly, an apt description: the newscast cut to several spots around the city, akuma of all shapes and sizes, both old and new, causing damage to the city and its people: Patchwork was setting to work on a new quilt, Stormy Weather was incasing half the city in ice, Poseidon was causing tidal waves, the Magician of Misfortune was disappearing everything in sight…and there was a _huge_ swarm of akuma flying around, obscuring the sky, throwing the city into darkness. It was a terrifying sight, and Alya didn’t blame Marinette for gasping, her mouth falling open in shock.

“Wha—”

The reporter on the scene continued, and Marinette cut herself off, but Alya could see the horror growing in her eyes, and she hated that. Adrien reached over, gripping Marinette’s hand, his knuckles white, his face drawn, and Alya felt her pity grow. Sure, she was part of Team Miraculous too, but they had been at this way longer than she had been. And they just couldn’t catch a break, could they?

“While there have still been no signs of Team Miraculous, we have confirmation that there _is_ a Miraculous user on the scene,” said Nadja Chamack, and a flash of blue appeared on screen as that mysterious blue bird man flew around, repelling akuma from citizens—Pavone, right? “No one knows the identity of this Miraculous user, but for now, he is our only defense against this attack. All we can do now is urge the public to follow the deputy mayor’s evacuation plans—the mayor could not be reached for comment, but the deputy mayor is urging everyone to flee the city, while offering City Hall as a bunker for anyone who may need it.”

The broadcast cut to a harried-looking Bridgette, terrified-looking citizens huddling together behind her in what looked like one of the board rooms of City Hall.

“More than ever, we have to look out for each other,” she said, smoothing a hand over her ruffled dark hair. “I know things are scary right now, but please, I urge you all to have faith: our heroes have yet to let us down. Team Miraculous _will_ save the day, and as long as we believe in that, we’ll be—”

The uplifting words of the deputy mayor of Paris were suddenly cut off. The screen went funny, glitching out…

Suddenly, a pair of bright and eerie eyes consumed the screen.

Alya yelped, jumping and accidentally bumping into Marinette, who gasped and seized Alya’s arm, clutching her so tightly that her nails dug into Alya’s skin. Alya didn’t have the presence of mind to react—her attention was absorbed by the television, where an eerie, slithering voice began to hiss through the speakers…

“ _Ah, the hardiness of humanity is an interesting thing,_ ” Shade said, casually leaning back from the camera to recline in some sort of chair, wherever she was. “ _Some would call you brave for daring to believe you will be saved…but I see it for what it is: foolishness._

“ _I will not disappear simply because you wish it, Paris. The words of a hero-worshipping fangirl will not grant you salvation. Accept your new reality: your heroes have forsaken you, and I am now your god. Flee if you wish, but rest assured, your city is lost. Tremble, Paris…_ ”

Shade’s eyes narrowed into slits.

“… _for your reckoning has finally arrived._ ”

The screen went black for a moment, before Nadja’s pale face came back on screen.

“We…apologize, for the technical difficulties. Um…w-we will continue our broadcast until further notice…”

Alya had to admire Ms. Chamack for her professionalism—she wasn’t sure that _she_ would be able to pull something like that off…

“Oh my god,” Marinette whispered beside her; Alya turned to find her best friend’s head bowed, staring at nothing as she clutched at her head. “Oh my god, I think I’m going to be sick…”

“Breathe,” Adrien urged her, steering her to sit on the foot of the bed. “Breathe, Mari.”

Marinette did as she was told, but the breath shuddered through her, her eyes still wide with horror.

“Of course,” she muttered, and Alya watched as a spark of anger suddenly flashed through Marinette’s expression. “Of _course_ she would attack the _minute_ we left town. Of _course_ she would.”

“About that,” Nino spoke, looking troubled as he stepped forward. “It’s…likely she’s been watching you, dude. Both of you.”

Adrien swore, clenching his hand into a fist.

“That doesn’t surprise me at all. Seems just like her, to strike when Paris’ heroes just happen to be out of town—”

“Wait,” Marinette interrupted, her head snapping up, regarding the television with confusion. “Pavone’s defending the city…but where’s Vixen? Why isn’t she out there helping him?”

Oh, right.

“Uh, hun?” Alya said, sitting down next to Marinette to pat her on the back, working not to look too amused. “I’ve got something to tell you—”

“Hiya!” Trixx interjected, popping out from Alya’s hair once again. “I’m Trixx! Nice to meet ya, Lady Luck!”

As Marinette stared at the mischievous kwami, Alya huffed.

“Or, y’know, we could just jump into this head-first…” She gave her kwami a pointed look, and Trixx grinned cheekily. Rolling her eyes, Alya finished, “Anyway…yeah. _I’m_ Vixen.”

Alya was very impressed—and a little bit disappointed—when it didn’t take longer than three seconds for Marinette to finally blink.

“…You know,” she began slowly, squinting a little at Alya, “that…makes a lot of sense.”

Alya pretended to pout.

“You’re not surprised at all?”

“Well…I’m surprised it took you so long to tell me.” Marinette folded her arms with a raise of her eyebrows. “So, since you, uh, apparently know about me, given there was no freak-out…when were you going to tell me that you’re Vixen?”

“Let she who does not keep superheroine secrets cast the fierce tone,” Alya chided her with a brief smirk, before reality set in again and she grew serious. “Anyway, now’s not exactly the time to talk about all this. We need to get our asses back to Paris. And fast.”

“Yes, we do,” Marinette agreed, and Alya could practically see Ladybug take over as her best friend stood, tall and firm, with all the righteous fury of a superhero horrified by a supervillain’s atrocities. Alya was so lucky to call her a friend. “I want to transform right now, but it would take us too long to get back that way, so—”

“We can take my car; it’s probably the fastest,” Adrien reasoned as he got to his feet as well. Alya watched as Nino gave a perfunctory roll of his eyes.

“Oh sure, brag about your super-expensive, super-fast car to the rest of us.”

“Wha—that’s not what I—”

“I know, dude, I’m messing with you,” Nino said, grabbing hold of Adrien’s arm and pulling him along as they sped-walk to the door, Nino picking up his and Alya’s luggage bag on the way. “You go get the car, and ‘Nette and I will check-out.”

“I still need to pack—” said Marinette fretfully, but Alya patted her shoulder and gave her a smile.

“I can help you with that. Don’t worry, girl—you’re not alone, remember?”

Marinette looked at Alya with a look so grateful that it embarrassed Alya. Jeez, it was just packing…sure, Alya knew she was an awesome person in general, but it was nothing to have kittens over…

“Right…okay. Meet in the lobby in ten minutes?”

“You got it, boss,” Nino told Marinette, shooting a finger gun at her as he tugged Adrien out of the room, but not before Adrien shot an anxious glance Marinette’s way, as if he was afraid she would disappear the moment he looked away. Alya watched as Marinette smiled gently at him, giving a small wave. Adrien returned the gestures, and it was Alya’s turn to give an exaggerated eye roll.

“Okay, you two can be mushy later,” she insisted, pushing Marinette’s back as she shoved her best friend out of the hotel room. “Trixx, do one last sweep for me, okay?”

“On it!” As the kwami flitted away, Alya pulled the door shut, making sure she had both keys before slipping them into her pocket.

“Okay, let’s get you packed so we can get outta here and kick a supervillain’s slithering ass,” she insisted, walking past Marinette to head for the stairs. A hand grabbed her shoulder, however, pulling her to a stop. Alya blinked, glancing back at Marinette. “What?”

Marinette was looking at her with a complicated expression—a mix of relief, trepidation, and…chagrin?

“…Alya,” she began, stepping closer and biting her lip. “I’m…sorry that I never told you. About me, I mean.”

Ah. Well, maybe a few years ago, Alya would’ve been upset by this, but after everything they’d all been through the past few months…

It was so easy to smile, and so Alya did, patting Marinette’s hand.

“Don’t even sweat it, girl. Now that I’ve been on the other side of that super-heroic fence, I understand why you couldn’t say anything. If it were me…I know I’d hate myself if anything happened to you, just because I didn’t keep my mouth shut.” Alya patted her best friend’s cheek gently. “I’m glad you’re Ladybug, Marinette.”

Marinette smiled, relief breaking over her face. When Trixx returned and gave the okay, Alya jerked her head, and Marinette didn’t hesitate to follow her upstairs so they could get her things squared away before their race to Paris. As they speed-packed, Alya paused when Marinette brought up an…interesting revelation:

“You know…you were almost Ladybug.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Yeah. When we were fourteen, and I first became Ladybug…it was so daunting that I almost gave it up. I planned to give the earrings to you, but then the whole thing with Stoneheart happened, and you got trapped under that car, so I had to transform to save you. But yeah, if you had remembered to take your bag before you left, _you_ might have been Ladybug.”

“… _Son of a bitch._ ”

“Hey! You tryin’ to make me angry? What, I’m not good enough for you?!”

“That’s not what I meant, Trixx. And _shhh._ ”

“Hahaha.”

Alya cleared her throat, sheepishly handing Marinette her make-up back as Marinette zipped her overnight bag closed.

“Well, what almost was doesn’t matter—it’s in the past now.”

“Yeah, it is.” Marinette hoisted her bag up over her shoulder, her bluebell eyes sparkling. “Besides, I’m glad things turned out this way. Vixen probably suits you a lot better than Ladybug would have.”

“Because I’m foxy?”

“Because you’re brilliant,” Marinette corrected, laughing at the faux pout Alya gave her. “And, as much as I wished superhero drama didn’t have to affect your life like this…I’m glad you’re Vixen, Alya.”

Alya smiled, pulling Marinette into a quick hug as they hastily exited the hotel room.

“I love you too, Marinette.”

 

* * *

 

If she kept biting her lip like that, she was going to chew it off. Adrien took his right hand off the wheel so he could reach over and rest it on the tightly folded hands in her lap. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the road for too long to see her reaction—he was going a lot faster than he should be—but he was heartened to feel Marinette take hold of his hand and squeeze it. It made him happy to be able to give her comfort like this.

They were almost back in Paris: the ominous shadow the swarm of akumas cast loomed closer and closer, and they had passed by a _lot_ of cars fleeing in the opposite direction, lots of terrified faces in the windows gawking at them, probably wondering who was so ignorant of what was happening that they were willing to speed right into the clutches of a madwoman.

But they were anything but ignorant: nobody spoke in the car as the news channel played from the radio, giving them updates which were too chaotic to follow. There were too many akumatized victims terrorizing the city, too much destruction, too much information to process. It was almost too much, and several times through the drive, either Marinette, Alya, or Nino would lean forward, their hands outstretched, meaning to shut the radio off…but they would halt at the last minute, as if coming back to their senses.

Adrien felt the way they did—it hurt, to hear all of this happening when they _still_ weren’t close enough to do anything about it. And, in a strange way…he rather felt like Shade had _betrayed_ them, pulling such a stunt the minute they left town, like some ancient ritual between hero and villain had been broken. It was ridiculous—clearly Shade didn’t care anything about rules anymore at this point—

Something large and heavy and _dangerous_ was suddenly flung through the sky, heading directly for them.

“LOOK OUT!!” Marinette screamed, and Adrien swerved, screeching out of the way. The car spun out of control, and Adrien slammed his foot on the break, bringing them to a sudden, painful halt.

“Everyone okay?!” Adrien demanded, once he managed to catch his breath, his heart still thudding painfully in his chest.

“I’ll live,” Alya grumbled from behind him.

“Me, too,” Nino huffed.

“I’m…I’m fine,” Marinette said, and Adrien looked over to see her staring over her shoulder. “Was…was that…?”

Adrien unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, gaping at the piece of debris that had almost hit them—

It was the top of the Eiffel Tower.

He swallowed, just standing there as his friends and girlfriend exited the car as well, staring at the chunk of their country’s most famous landmark, looking like it was literally just plucked off the top and tossed carelessly aside by an ornery giant. They weren’t even within the city limits yet—the tower was still _kilometers_ away. What had happened that the very top had made its way all the way here…?

“Guys,” Marinette spoke, turning to the rest of them with a grim look, “it’s time to transform.”

No one argued. Instead, four voices rang out in the deserted air:

“Tikki—”

“Plagg—”

“Wayzz—”

“Trixx—”

“ _TRANSFORM ME!_ ”

In a shower of red, black, green and orange, their civilian selves vanished.

Team Miraculous was on the scene.

“Follow me!” Ladybug directed, sending out her yo-yo and taking to the air at once. Chat Noir obeyed without hesitation, and he heard the start of a hover board behind him as a swish of an orange tail appeared above him as Vixen jumped to the nearest rooftop to follow.

Once they crossed into the city, immediately trouble found them, as if Shade knew they were back in the city and wanted to give them a proper greeting. Two akumas Chat had never seen before attacked them with fire and lightening, but Chat rolled out of the way, pouncing onto the one shooting fire at Ladybug while Vixen landed on the lightning-wielder nearby, Emerald Shell blocking the bolt the startled akuma shot at him with his shield as he dropped from mid-air. Quickly, Chat grabbed the dark hair pin from the akuma’s hair, smashing his clawed hand into it.

“Ladybug!” He called as the akuma flitted out, and Ladybug snagged it immediately—or she tried to. The akuma crumbled at the touch of her yo-yo, and Ladybug stomped her foot in frustration.

“Not again!” She cried, and Chat tried to think of something to calm her, but was distracted by the akuma he had pinned throwing him off. He landed hard, the air rushing out of him. As he picked himself back up, wincing, he looked up in time to see the wristband Vixen and Shell had wrestled away from the lightning akuma end just as the hair pin—crumbling to ash the minute Ladybug tried to purify it.

“Lousy goddamn _fake akumas!_ ” Ladybug shrieked in outrage.

“What do we do?” Shell called, pushing back against the blast of fire hurled at him.

“I don’t know!” Ladybug burst out, too frustrated to notice the bolt of lightning the akuma was about to hurl at her. Chat lunged at her, tackling her to the ground just as the akuma threw it; it hit an abandoned car and fizzled out.

“That’s it!” Vixen growled, baring her teeth. Chat opened his mouth to warn her not to do anything crazy, but it was too late—she was already in motion. The akumas turned on her, but before they could ready any more attacks, Vixen slipped between them, delivering swift jabs to the backs of their necks. With choked cries of surprise, the akumas crumbled, and Vixen let out a breath, straightening up as Ladybug squirmed out from under Chat.

“Wh—what did you do?!”

“It’s okay! I just knocked them out.” Vixen winked at them, flexing an arm. “Self-defense classes are important, even if you happen to be Miraculous.”

“Okay, that’s great, but that only temporarily solves our problem,” Shell pointed out, and Chat would have laughed at the sour look Vixen shot him, had the situation not been so dire. “And there are _thousands_ of other akumas running around and causing a ruckus. LB…how do we figure out which akumas to purify?”

Chat’s heart sank at the overwhelmed look Ladybug gave Shell in response.

“I…I don’t know. We could never tell before either, so I don’t know how… _damn_ it! How did she get this much power?!”

“We need to find _her,_ ” Vixen insisted, scowling as she menacingly cracked her knuckles. “If we could just get to Shade—”

“But we don’t know _how_ to find Shade,” Chat interjected, trying not to fall victim to the pit of despair he could feel growing within him. But damn, was it hard… “We’ve never even _seen_ Shade in person before, according to—”

“Pavone!” Ladybug suddenly interjected, but once Chat glanced at her in surprise, he realized that she wasn’t cutting him off—she was staring at something in the distance. When he turned, he saw the tell-tale blue of the hero that had saved him and Marinette from their untimely deaths. It looked like a few of the flying akuma were chasing him…

“LB, wait up!” Chat heard Shell cried, and he looked over just in time to see his partner take off, flying through the air as she sped toward Pavone. The rest of Team Miraculous only had time to exchange glances before they were off as well, chasing their leader as she chased the enigma that was Pavone.

They arrived on the scene, at the stairs of City Hall, just in time to watch Pavone dance artfully around the attacks the akumas were flinging at him, dodging so elegantly that it didn’t look any harder than fancy footwork.

“Pavone!” Ladybug cried, and Pavone was distracted as he glanced in her direction, blue eyes wide. In that moment, an akuma struck him. Chat heard Ladybug gasp as Pavone flew through the air, but this time, it was not of his own volition. The momentum carried him to the top of the stairs, where he landed hard and collapsed.

Chat watched, in horror, as rapid chimes began to sound from Pavone, and suddenly, blue sparks were surrounding his ankles…

He was de-transforming.

“No!” Chat shouted, racing forward to intercept the akumas that pursued Pavone. He lost track of things for one heart-pounding minute, just working to keep the akuma busy rather than actually trying to defeat it, because Ladybug was busy with her own hand-to-hand combat over there, and Vixen and Shell had teamed up to take down the biggest one, and oh no, Pavone was defenseless, Chat had to help—

He did a low sweep of his leg, tripping the akuma up and jumping over its groaning form to race up the stairs, to protect whatever civilian form Pavone had taken—

Pavone slowly pushed himself up onto one elbow, looking like he was struggling to do so, opening one cool blue eye as the other winced in pain—

Chat was brought up short. He didn’t mean to stop running, but…his body refused to move, locked mid-race up the steps as he gaped at what could not be possible…

His cousin could _not_ be the one there, struggling to sit up, after his transformation ran out, a small, bird-like creature shivering at his side. It _couldn’t_ be him.

But it was.

Chat was too caught up in his revelation; he lost focus. Within seconds, another akuma was shoving him out of the way, barreling forward as it pursued what was clearly an easy target.

Chat reached out a clawed hand, his mouth opening in a silent cry as the akuma bore down on Felix—

A sharp sound cracked through the air, and suddenly, the akuma drew up short, yelping in pain.

“ _Smettila!_ Back off, akuma!”

That voice…

Just as Chat realized who that voice belonged to, she appeared from thin air: her normally green suit flushing red in her rage, Camille stood guard before Felix, brandishing her whip menacingly. She cracked her whip once more, and the akuma growled and fled, as if it just decided that it didn’t need this grief. It snarled for the akumas still fighting Team Miraculous, and they all fell back, like the lead akuma was the leader of a wolf pack, which was probably accurate, considering the fact that they all bore wolf-like features.

Chat turned back, racing up the rest of the stairs. Camille was crouching down beside Felix, her hands hovering over him as she dithered, dark eyes wide.

“Are—are you all right? Is there something I can—”

“I’ll survive,” Felix grunted, though he winced more as he managed to fully sit up, the tips of his fingers gingerly probing his temple. With his free hand, he carefully scooped up what must be the Peacock kwami and tucked it into an inner pocket of his vest. Chat’s nose itched, but he just managed to avoid sneezing. But only just. “Just sore.”

“Felix?” Ladybug called, coming up next to Chat and gawking at him. “You're not—wait, _Camille_?”

Camille glanced up, her smile strained as she looked at Ladybug.

“ _Ciao, Coccinelle,_ ” she greeted, getting to her feet. “Things here are just a bit, um, hectic, yes? I came because I thought that I could maybe help…” She frowned, the expression strangely familiar to Chat. “How did this happen?”

Before anyone could explain, the doors to City Hall creaked open. Chat glanced over, finding the deputy mayor blinking at all of them.

“Ladybug!” She cried, exiting the building to rush to them. “Oh, thank goodness, I _knew_ you would—wait, Felix? What are you doing out here? Oh no, are you hurt??”

Too many questions. Chat’s head was beginning to hurt.

“ _Mlle._ Deputy Mayor, would you mind if we claimed City Hall as our sanctuary for a moment?” He requested, leaning over to take hold of Felix’s arm, slinging it over his shoulders as he helped his cousin to his feet. “We need to regroup.”

“Oh…yes, okay,” Bridgette allowed, flushing for a reason Chat couldn’t quite understand. She opened the doors wide, and Chat, with the help of Camille, ushered Felix inside.

“Is there a room we can use where we won’t be disturbed?” Ladybug asked once Bridgette closed the doors behind them, securing them with a large board she slid through the handles. Bridgette nodded, and briskly led them upstairs. Chat recognized the path, and was therefore not surprised when they arrived in the mayor’s office.

“Where’s the head honcho?” Shell inquired, sounding as sour as Chat felt as he and Camille led Felix over to the armchair next to the fireplace. Chat sneezed, and then winced, moving a bit faster.

“He was one of the first people to flee the city when we started evacuating,” Bridgette explained, the stiff quality in her voice extremely telling. “Who knows if he’ll even come back?”

“Good riddance,” Vixen huffed, moving over to the windows, as if she meant to keep watch.

Felix grunted as Chat and Camille sat him in the armchair; Camille’s hands fluttered over him, but he waved her off, a hand resting over the lump in his vest. Sneezing again, Chat moved a safer distance away.

“I…is there anything I can do for you all?” Bridgette asked, casting an anxious glance around the room. “I…I want to help, if possible…”

Team Miraculous exchanged glances as Chat wracked his brain for a way for Bridgette to help. Truthfully, though he wanted to give her something to do—it must be so frustrating to be in a position of power, but be unable to do enough in this situation—he was honestly coming up blank.

“Blueberries.”

Chat glanced over at Felix, raising his eyebrows behind his mask. What an odd request. Why would—

The lump in Felix’s vest pocket quivered, and suddenly, Chat understood.

Bridgette, however, did not.

“B-blueberries?”

“Or any fruit that you have,” Felix amended, glancing over at Bridgette. “Please.”

Bridgette flushed red again, and Chat watched curiously as she fiddled with the hem of her shirt, as if concerned that it was not hanging right.

“Um, all right…any other food requests?”

“I could use some cookies,” Ladybug said, looking rather sheepish.

“If you have camembert, I’ll gladly take some,” Chat added on. Bridgette looked mildly perplexed by these food requests, but she nonetheless nodded.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

She exited the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

“…Are we fucked here or what?” Vixen huffed after a moment of silence. Shell hummed, perching himself on the edge of the mayor’s desk as he folded his arms, scowling at the floor.

“That might be putting it mildly. Shade’s not even close to fucking around anymore. LB, how you holding up?”

“Don’t ask,” Ladybug groaned, leaning against the paneled wall next to the door. “It’s like Shade crawled into my brain and recreated my worst nightmares with what she found there.”

“No kidding. What do we…”

Chat Noir was deaf to the ensuing conversation. While he wanted to go over there and hug Ladybug, because she seemed like she really needed one, something else was demanding his attention, the elephant that he'd helped into the room. He turned to stare at Felix, who was quietly speaking to Camille as she crouched next to him. Taking a moment to apologize to his nose in advance, Chat took a deep breath and moved back over to his cousin. Felix saw him coming, and kept his gaze as Chat moved closer; Camille stood up as Chat came nearer, as if she was afraid that she was intruding.

Slowly, ignoring his watering eyes, Chat knelt down next to Felix, staring into those cool blue eyes he had resented for the longest time…eyes he was beginning to wonder if he ever understood at all. And those eyes stared back, Felix meeting his gaze unflinchingly, almost as if…

As if…

Chat lifted his chin.

“You know.”

Felix inclined his head ever-so-slightly.

“Yes.”

“You knew this whole time.”

“…Yes,” he admitted.

Chat stared harder, though he knew it was pointless—Felix had always been a mystery to him, so he would never be able to decode him by just looking.

“Why?”

Felix glanced away, his brow furrowing as his pale cheeks turned rosy.

“…Would you believe me if I said…it was because I cared?”

“No,” Chat said immediately, and Felix glanced back at him, the corners of his lips twitching.

“Then that’s why,” he said, nonsensical as ever.

And yet, somehow…Chat still understood.

“ _Ahem._ ”

The voice was sharp and much closer than Chat had anticipated; he jumped a little, straightening to glance over at Ladybug, who had her hands on her hips as her gaze bounced between Chat and Felix. Eventually, after appearing to size them both up, she turned to Felix.

“…Felix,” she greeted tersely. Chat thought he saw an almost-smile flash across his cousin’s face, but he sneezed at that moment, so he could have just imagined it.

“Ladybug,” he replied, cool as anything. Ladybug didn’t seem pleased with that—her eyes narrowed at him.

“So. You’re…Pavone?”

“But did you not know?” Camille asked, blinking her wide brown eyes at them. “I thought you came to his rescue because you are friends?”

“We’re not—” Ladybug paused, huffed, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “…‘Friends’ is a stretch,” she growled at last, glancing over at Chat for some reason. “Let’s say we’re…allies.”

“I…see,” Camille said, though she clearly didn’t, if the yellow swirling through her costume was proof of anything. “Felix, are you in much pain?”

“I’ll survive,” Felix repeated himself, frowning a little as he reached inside his vest, pulling out the quivering kwami from before. “Dusuu? Are you all right?”

“Oh…I’ve been better,” said the kwami in a small, high-pitched voice, unraveling itself from its tail and sitting up, peering up at them with tearful red eyes. “I’m sorry, Felix. I tried to hold on—”

There was a low rumble from somewhere, and eyes jumped to the window. Some sort of destruction was happening in the distance, and Chat’s jaw tightened.

“We have to do something,” he stated the obvious.

“Soon,” Vixen added, never turning her gaze from the window she stood sentinel by.

“I know,” Ladybug growled; with one last disapproving look shot at Felix, she walked away, beginning to pace. “But what the hell are we supposed to do here? We can’t purify false akumas, and we have no way of telling them apart from the _real_ akumas, and there are _thousands_ of them loose in the city right now! How did this even _happen?!_ ”

“Kinda makes you miss Hawkmoth, don’t it?” Shell said dryly, but then he caught Chat’s gaze and cringed. “Ah, dude, I’m sorry—”

“It’s fine,” Chat said with a shake of his head. “I’m working to make peace with it.”

He could see Camille giving him a confused look from his peripheral vision, but chose to ignore it. Though she seemed to know Felix—which was strange, given that the last time they saw her, she claimed she had no idea who Pavone was—she was still an outside party. No need to air out all his dirty laundry to everyone in this room, even if most of them knew, and all of them were Miraculous users.

The awkward moment was interrupted by the television in the mayor’s office suddenly cutting on. Shade appeared once again, almost looking bored, with the way her head rested against her fist as she reclined on her throne once again.

“ _Ah, I see Team Miraculous has returned to Paris,_ ” she drawled, and suddenly, her teeth flashed, her horrible grin forming. “ _Interesting…all right, my pretty akumas, this is your new mission: destroy Team Miraculous. I don’t care how you do it—crush them, maim them, drop them from great heights, whatever pleases you. As long as they’re dead, I’ll be satisfied. Remember: I gave you these powers, so it’s no trouble for me to take them away just as easily. Do not disappoint me._ ”

Her eyes flashed wickedly.

“ _Word has it that they’ve holed up in City Hall, so that building is now fair game. Have fun, my dears._ ”

The television shut off, leaving stunned silence in its wake.

“…She’s really not fucking around anymore,” Shell said in a hushed voice. Chat looked over just in time to see Ladybug sway dangerously; he reached out and caught her, holding her tight.

“Ladybug—”

“Oh my god,” she whispered, despair breaking her tone. “Oh my _god._ We’ve gotta get out of here, _now._ ”

The rumbling grew in the distance, and Chat felt his insides tighten. They couldn’t stay here. If they did, everyone who had taken shelter here was in danger. They had to go. They had to flee—

“Where?” Camille finished his thought, her costume growing paler and paler as all color drained from her face as well. “Where can we go that they will not follow? What can we do?”

“We have to find Shade,” Chat asserted, his hands tightening over Ladybug’s arms protectively as he felt her shiver in his grip. “If we find her, we end this. All of it.”

“But you said before that we have no idea where she could be,” Vixen pointed out, looking reluctant as she tore her gaze from the window, despite the fact that they knew a storm of akumas were making their way there, even as they stood there, trying to plot their next move… “It’s not like we can search the whole city for her, can we?”

“And even then, she’s _watching_ us,” Shell snarled, slamming a frustrated fist into the mayor’s mahogany desk. “We can’t get away with _shit_ as long as that’s true; even if we get close, she’ll probably just move to a new location. We’re _fucked._ ”

“Her powers are not as limitless as you fear,” Felix spoke up, sitting up a little and rubbing his head. “She’s still only human.”

“She has _two_ of the Miraculous!” Ladybug spat, suddenly whirling in Chat’s arms to snarl at Felix. “Even if there’s a limit to her power, who’s to say when that’ll run out?! She’s been at this since _last night!_ How the hell are we supposed to compete with this kind of power?!”

“Oh dear. Ladybug, surely you of all people are not giving up? Your positivity is one of the biggest reasons I believe you can overcome anything.”

The new voice that intruded was both unexpected, and instantly welcome. Both Chat and Ladybug whirled to the door, finding Bridgette standing next to a bowed old man, his hair completely white and beard down to his chest…but the Hawaiian shirt was still absolutely familiar.

“Master Fu!” Chat, Ladybug and Shell cried, Shell rushing forward to take Master Fu’s arm when the aging man seemed to have trouble shuffling into the room himself.

“Now now, no need to fuss,” said Master Fu genially, though he did accept Shell’s help as his student led him to the large swivel chair behind the mayor’s desk.

“What are you doing here?” Ladybug wanted to know as she and Chat approached the desk, and it warmed Chat to see her suddenly so hopeful, like Master Fu held all of the answers to their prayers.

“I chose to remain behind when the city began to evacuate,” Master Fu explained, grunting a little as he sat down, resting his walking stick across the desk. “I felt that I would be of more use here. I was comforting some of the scared children here when I saw _Mlle._ Reine hunting down a peculiar assortment of treats. Naturally, I put two and two together and decided to accompany her.”

Bridgette, for her part, didn’t seem to understand fully what was happening, but Chat gave her credit for taking it in stride, handing little packets of snacks to him, Ladybug, and Felix, who promptly hid Dusuu from sight at her approach.

“Master Fu, thank god,” Ladybug sighed, sounding near tears as she sank down to Master Fu’s eye level across the desk. “We need your help. Shade’s calling for our execution, and we have no idea how to find her and stop her.”

“I am aware,” Master Fu said, his wizened eyes growing serious. “It seems she will stop at nothing to achieve her goals.”

“What do we do?” Ladybug questioned, looking more desperate than Chat had seen her in months; it physically hurt him to see her look so lost, when just a few hours ago, she was looking up at him with a sleepy, content expression, looking loved and safe…

If there was ever a time that Chat found himself hating Shade, it paled in comparison to the way he felt now, having to watch Ladybug look like this now as the wrath of this merciless supervillain bore down on them…

On cue, the rumbling grew louder, distinct sounds growing closer. Vixen turned from the window to shoot Shell an anxious look, and Shell stood up, sliding his shield off his back, as if he was ready to defend everyone at a moment’s notice. Good man.

Master Fu, for his part, inspected Ladybug, stroking his long beard for a long moment…

Finally, he closed his eyes.

“I don’t know.”

The words were like a death sentence; Chat had to watch the last glimmer of hope fade from Ladybug’s eyes, and he _hated_ it.

“There must be _something_ we can do,” he insisted, laying his palms flat against the desk, not ready to give up yet, not ready to give up his world, not ready to give up his Lady… “ _Anything._ I’ll do _anything._ ”

Even if it meant he had to surrender himself to whatever madness Shade had in store for him, even if it meant that he could never see Ladybug—Marinette—again, if it meant saving Paris…if it meant saving her…

As if she knew what he was thinking, Ladybug clutched at his hand, and though she looked so small, crouched down like that, her eyes were suddenly so fierce, intent upon him.

‘ _Stay,_ ’ her expression commanded. And Chat didn’t dare disobey.

Master Fu opened his eyes again, regarding them silently.

“I say that I don’t know what you can do because I know nothing about the force you are up against,” he said, resting his hands over his walking stick. “This is as new to me as it is to you.”

…Well, that wasn’t true. _They_ knew a little bit about what was going on here, even if Master Fu didn’t…

Master Fu glanced at him, and Chat straightened, as if he didn’t wish to be caught in wrong-doing. Master Fu just had that effect on him, but it wasn’t his fault—Chat still carried too much guilt over his past actions to be able to meet Master Fu’s gaze easily. This did not seem to bother the old man, however; he even smiled at Chat, as if he was looking fondly upon his favorite grandson.

“…You appear to have a few ideas,” he noted. Chat shifted uncomfortably.

“Well…we do know her motive,” he said slowly, though he trailed off, uncomfortably aware of the two women in the room who did not know his secret identity. Thankfully, Master Fu did not seem to need details.

“That’s good! Start there, and think: you know why she’s doing what she’s doing, so use that. Go back to the beginning. How can you use her motive to your advantage?”

Use her motive to their advantage…?

How the hell was Chat supposed to know? All he knew was that Shade wanted him dead because the reporter she was related to, probably her father, knew that _his_ father was Hawk Moth, and did nothing but accept hush money from Gabriel Agreste for a while before he was found dead of an overdose…how were the sins of the past supposed to help them here in the present?

There was a sharp intake of breath next to him, and suddenly, Ladybug shot to her feet. Chat blinked, staring at her as she stared down at the desk, her eyes wide.

“…Maybe…?” She muttered, her gaze going to him next, as if she expected him to know what she was getting at just from that one word.

“Maybe what?” He asked, and Ladybug turned to fully face him, determination sparking a fire in her eyes to chase away the darkness that had briefly invaded. Thank god.

“Agreste Manor,” she said, and Chat automatically stiffened at the mention of his childhood prison/home. After a moment or two, he realized she was trying to tell him something by mentioning it, but what could—

And then he realized what she was trying to say. His mouth popped open.

“ _There?_ ” He asked, disbelief coloring his tone. “Why would she be _there_?”

“She might not be,” Ladybug readily admitted, gripping her chin in thought. “But it’s possible. Think about it: that’s where it all started, isn’t it? Gabriel Agreste wronged her, so maybe, just maybe, she’d want to see Paris be destroyed from the place where he once stood…?”

“If she hasn’t razed it to the ground,” Shell added with a shake of his head. Still, Chat’s gaze returned to his Lady, focusing on the resolve in her expression.

“…You sure about this?”

“No, not at all,” Ladybug readily admitted, shrugging. “But we have no other leads. Wouldn’t hurt to check, would it?”

“But how will we go to check if she is watching?” Camille wanted to know, leaving Felix to Bridgette’s quiet concern and approaching Chat and Ladybug, looking anxious. “She will know immediately if we try to find her, yes?”

Ladybug frowned.

“Damn it, you have a point,” she admitted, and Camille gave an apologetic look. The room grew silent again, save for the worrisome rumbling that kept getting louder the longer they stood there—

“Sounds like what you need is a distraction.”

For the second time, Chat whipped around to stare at the doorway of the mayor’s office, because this voice was surprising and familiar, too, even more so because—

“Alix!” Vixen yelped, rushing to Chat’s side to gape at the pink-haired woman leaning against the doorway. “You’re awake!”

Alix made a face.

“I woke up last night—that psycho bitch is making such a racket that not even _I_ could sleep through it.” She gave Vixen a dry look. “So. From what I hear, you turned my rebel group into a bunch of pansies.”

Chat thought that Vixen would be offended by this, but instead, she smirked, as if she had been complimented. …Her friendship with Alix was weird.

“A bunch of pansies that Paris actually _listens_ to now,” Vixen answered, looking self-satisfied. “You’re welcome.”

“What did you mean by saying we need a distraction?” Ladybug interrupted the playful banter, and Alix sobered, straightening up.

“Right. Well, some of AVA’s holed up in here with idle hands, and I know for a fact that we still have a bunch of goo stashed away at our hideout—”

“I told them they should get rid of all that,” Vixen interjected, frowning. Alix smirked at her.

“You only advised them to remove the goo _you_ could see.”

“You sneaky little bastards,” Vixen commented fondly. The rumbling outside suddenly grew to a roar, and Chat glanced over his shoulder and hissed: there was an outright _mob_ forming outside, and they were headed straight for City Hall.

“That’s my cue,” Alix said, stepping back from the doorway. Abruptly, Chat realized that she hadn’t once stepped foot inside, almost as if the place held too many bad memories for her to enter the room ever again.

“Wait a minute,” Shell called after her with a frown. “You _do_ realize you’re basically risking your lives here?”

Alix shrugged.

“So are you guys.”

“Yes, but…we are superheroes,” Camille pointed out, staring at Alix as if she had never seen such an odd creature before. “It is a bit different.”

Alix glanced over at her, raising an eyebrow.

“The only difference, honey, is that you guys can take a couple more hits than we can.” She smirked. “But what we lack in super-armor, we make up for enthusiasm. Stick around, and you’ll see what I mean.”

“Wait,” Ladybug forestalled her for just a moment longer, frowning. “What do you get out of volunteering to help us?”

Alix’s brows shot up into her hairline.

“Um, I live here too?”

“But in agreeing to help us,” Ladybug pressed stubbornly, “you’re agreeing to _help_ us. Chat Noir included, you know.” She folded her arms, giving Alix a searching look. “Are you okay with that?”

Chat watched, conflicting emotions warring within him as Alix’s expression grew thoughtful. On the one hand, he was glad that Ladybug was bringing this up—it meant that she truly hadn’t disregarded his feelings concerning AVA—but on the other hand, maybe now wasn’t the best time to remind the rebel leader of their differences…

After a moment, Alix’s gaze switched to Chat. He stared back at her, shoulders automatically straightening. He didn’t bother to try and look non-confrontational, nor did he try to look dangerous. He was just…himself: doing the best he could to make amends.

Whether or not Alix had come to finally realize that remained unseen. After a tense second, she merely shrugged, turning and giving them her back.

“Well…let’s just say that we all have bigger problems to worry about right now.”

It wasn’t acceptance, or an apology, but right now, Chat would take it.

Before anyone else could bring up legitimate concerns, or attempt to talk her out of it, Alix walked away, apparently determined to raise more hell, now that she was awake. Chat turned, bemused as Camille stared at the doorway still.

“…She is…interesting…” she said, fingertips lightly touching her lips. Chat raised an eyebrow under his mask. Hmm…

“She’s in a relationship,” he warned her, amused as Camille’s face flushed and her suit turned pink. “But, y’know, if we live through this, maybe I can get you her number, in case you want to get to know her better…”

“Oh, do not tease me,” Camille insisted, swatting at him in an endearing way…and a familiar way…why was she so familiar…?

“Speaking of distractions,” Vixen piped up, and Chat turned to find her palming the flute she usually kept strapped to her back. “I can provide a few, if you guys wanna go check out Agreste Manor.”

Raising the flute to her lips, Vixen played a short ditty, and a glowing sphere appeared at the end. She tossed it, and suddenly orange smoke filled the room where it landed. Once it cleared…

Chat gaped. He couldn’t count that fast, but…he had to be staring at a dozen replicas of himself, at _least._

He wasn’t alone, either: there were several Ladybugs, a few Vixens, and a whole lot of Emerald Shells, so many that Chat was sure that they outnumbered all the other copies. He glanced at Vixen, who seemed to notice this, too, and muffled a snicker.

“Whoops. Guess we can tell who my favorite is,” she laughed.

“These are _brilliant,_ Vixen!” Ladybug enthused, taking in the view before her. “They look just like us!”

“Thank you, thank you,” Vixen said graciously, bowing to ham it up. “Shade ain’t the only one that can make copies around here.” The amusement faded, replaced with a frown. “But they won’t last too long. So if you two want to head to Agreste Manor, you’d better do it now-ish.”

“Okay…I say we split up,” Ladybug directed, turning to Vixen and Shell first. “You two run around the city with the clones, make as much noise as you possibly can. Oh, and if you see AVA around, _please_ try to make sure they don’t do anything stupid, all right?”

“We promise to try,” Shell said dryly, tapping his shield for emphasis.

“All right, troops, you heard the lady! March!” Vixen directed the clones, who poured out of the mayor’s office at her order. Vixen stopped just long enough to give both Ladybug and Chat a big hug before she chased after them, dragging Shell along behind her.

Chat watched, absolutely sympathetic as Ladybug stared after them. He wondered if she, too, was trying not to think about when they would see their friends again…

The distraction plan seemed to work immediately, however; there was a large uproar outside, and Chat glanced out the window to see the utter bedlam of watching several different copies of himself taunt and tease several of the akumas into following him in several different directions of the city. Well, that took care of one problem, for now…

“Camille,” Ladybug called, and Chat ripped his gaze from the window to watch as Camille straightened, her face determined. “Can I ask you to protect City Hall? I don’t know how many of those akumas will be kept busy by clones, and some of them might try to come back here.”

“You can depend on me,” Camille assured her, clenching her fists in determination. “I am here to help.”

From the corner of his eye, Chat saw Felix get up.

“Oh, Felix, you’re hurt, you shouldn’t—” Bridgette began to fuss, only to pause, her eyes widening as Felix briefly touched her cheek. Something wordless passed between them, leaving Bridgette flushed, and Felix stepped away from her, pulling out his kwami again, who tossed the last blueberry Felix had given her into her mouth, swallowing loudly. Chat sneezed and stepped to the other side of Ladybug.

“Ready?” Felix asked, and Dusuu fluttered into the air, doing a little twirl.

“Ready!” She chirped, and Chat was astounded to see his cousin _smile_ , possibly for the first time since Adrien had known him.

“Then, Dusuu—transform me.”

Chat rather felt that Felix was showing off at this point—blatantly transforming in front of the woman he was…interested in? Dating? Somehow, Chat couldn’t see Felix dating, but whatever they were, he felt it was a bold move to suddenly reveal that he was a superhero to Bridgette like this. Still, he supposed he didn’t have much room to talk, and merely let himself be amused by the way Bridgette’s jaw dropped as Felix disappeared, and Pavone was born again.

“I will assist you, Camille,” he said smoothly, as if he hadn’t just been nursing a huge headache a moment ago. Camille smiled up at him.

“Talk about a…oh, what is it…a blast from the back, yes?”

“Blast from the past,” Chat corrected her automatically, and then he paused. Wait, this scenario was familiar, too—

“Oh! Yes, past, ha,” Camille said, looking embarrassed as she stuck her tongue out, the way—

The way Erika used to when he had first started teaching her French.

Chat gawked at Camille. _Wait a damn minute—_

“Wait a damn minute!” Ladybug echoed, and Chat jumped, wondering if she had just had the same epiphany he reached…oh, but she was glaring at Pavone. “What makes you think we need _your_ help?”

Pavone’s eyes widened slightly, as if he was raising his eyebrows underneath his mask.

“I was under the impression that you could use all the help you could get,” he said quietly, and Ladybug scowled, as if he had insulted her through nine generations. Camille glanced between them, looking troubled.

“Is…there a problem…?” She wanted to know, and Chat watched as Ladybug’s mouth opened angrily, as if she was _adamant_ that Pavone have no part in this haphazard plan to save the city…all because she found out today that Felix was Pavone all along.

Chat placed a hand on her shoulder, and Ladybug glanced over at him, rebellion in her gaze. Chat countered it with a soft look, giving her shoulder a squeeze. He knew she had issues with Felix, but considering they really _were_ up a creek without a paddle right now…

“We owe him our lives, My Lady,” he reminded her gently. Ladybug’s jaw locked stubbornly, as if she was about to spit that she didn’t give a damn and that Pavone was _not_ invited to help them save Paris—

“Pavone is a strong and just hero,” Master Fu spoke up in his quavering voice, and Ladybug’s gaze switched to him. “You would do well to accept his help, Ladybug.”

Rather than convincing her, however, this just made Ladybug scowl more…until she met Chat’s eyes again.

“…Are _you_ okay with this?” She wanted to know, surprising him. He blinked at her, wondering why it was suddenly so important for him to be okay with Pavone helping them. Perhaps because she had just learned that he was Adrien’s cousin? And yeah, sure, he was still reeling from that revelation, too—from _two_ revelations now, actually, but didn’t they have more important things to worry about…?

“Any and all help is good,” Chat replied, curious again as Ladybug searched his expression, almost as if she expected that he was just saying what he thought Pavone wanted to hear. But he must have looked sincere enough to satisfy her, for she looked away, taking a deep breath.

“Then you and Camille will both guard City Hall,” Ladybug said stiffly, and Chat patted her shoulder, proud. After all, he knew what his Lady’s temper was like: agreeing to work with someone she clearly did not like could not have been easy.

“Be careful!” Camille wished them, hugging Ladybug, and holding out her hand for Chat to shake, just as she had the first time they’d said goodbye. Though he didn't understand why he didn't get a hug now either, he didn’t complain, giving her hand a slight squeeze.

“Take care,” he wished fervently, because if he was right, and he knew who was under that mask, he didn’t want any harm coming to her whatsoever.

Camille, whether or not she knew fully what he was feeling, still seemed to understand; she smiled, her nose wrinkling.

“Do not worry. I am tougher than I look!” She assured him, flexing for emphasis before she let go of his hand, turning to go. “Pavone, _andiamo!_ ”

“ _Si, si,_ ” Pavone replied in a practiced tone, as if he was used to being urged to follow after Camille. He tipped his hat to Bridgette as he passed, and Chat was pretty sure that she almost swooned. He bit back his amusement by reminding himself that he and Ladybug had work to do still.

“Then we’re off to Agreste Manor,” Ladybug insisted, moving to open the window behind the mayor’s desk. “Master Fu, thanks again for everything. You too, Bridgette.”

“Oh…yeah, sure,” Bridgette replied, and Chat smirked, thinking that this was probably the first time he had ever seen her so flustered. It was cute.

“Good luck, you two,” Master Fu wished them. Chat couldn’t help the wry look he sent the old man’s way as he joined Ladybug on the windowsill, his arms sliding around her.

“Good luck isn’t really a thing I have an abundance of,” he reminded Master Fu, who smiled.

“Perhaps.” He paused, stroking his beard. “But I was never one to believe in old superstitions.”

Chat watched as he waved goodbye, and he had barely enough time to return the gesture before Ladybug was swinging away, to follow this hunch she had about their enemy. As they flew through the air, and Chat got a good look at all the destruction, he prayed that she was right.

Agreste Manor was the last place he ever wanted to return to…but if it meant taking down Shade once and for all, then Chat would face the demons of his past once again in combat.

And this time, he would be unquestionably victorious.

 

* * *

 

“All right nerds, if we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it right, so grab as much goo as you can carry,” Alix directed the remaining members of AVA, her eyes scanning the hideout, nose wrinkling as she took in the sight of their rebel flyers removed or painted over, replaced with what looked to be a peaceful slogan, and some sort of website to learn “more information”. Ugh.

As Alix placed a hand on the wall next to her, the redhead with them—Amanda, Alix thought her name was—paused, peering at her in some concern.

“Are…you all right?”

Alix shrugged, attempting to look careless.

“Just a little woozy. Being unconscious and doped up on an IV for a month isn’t exactly the funnest experience. I’m fine,” she added in a firmer tone when more of the AVA members paused to shoot her anxious glances. “Just grab the goo. There’s no way we’re missing _this_ fight.”

“You sound like this is fun for you,” the Viner—Antoine—grumbled as be began to stuff his satchel full of their patented goo creation.

“Like I said, I’ve been asleep for a month. I’ll take whatever fun I can get.”

One of the members handed a full duffel bag off to her, and Alix shouldered it, smirking as she tossed one of the goo balls a couple times. Ah, it had been way too long…

“Uh…Timebreaker…?”

Alix sighed, giving Amanda a dry look.

“Alix,” she corrected. “That bit got old a long time ago, didn’t it?”

Amanda flushed, hesitantly pushing her hair from her face.

“Alix…can we…actually do this?”

“Scared?” Alix challenged, smirking…until she saw the other AVA members exchange glances. Right…this was something entirely new to them, wasn’t it? They weren’t fighting bigoted citizens of Paris anymore—there were honest-to-god akumatized victims out there, being forced to bend to the will of some crazy bitch on a power trip. They had never had to deal with a threat _this_ big before…

But even so…

“Look, I’m not gonna lie to you,” Alix said to the half-dozen AVA members still with her—where the hell was Kim? Alix wished he was here, though she would never admit it out loud—“things are crazy. We’ve never had to deal with this caliber of bullshit before…”

Alix clenched her free hand into a fist.

“But that’s exactly why we can’t just sit down and let Ladybug and her crew take the brunt of this. This is our city too, and some of our comrades are out there again, made into ‘monsters’, thanks to the Butterfly.  We owe it to them to do anything we can to get them outta this…and we owe it to ourselves.”

Alix looked up from her fist, meeting the eyes of her remaining rebel group.

“And while that sounds nice and all…this _is_ dangerous. Truth be told, I’d rather _not_ end up on a hospital bed for another month…but even so, I’m gonna go out there and do what I can. But I won’t hold you guys to the same standards. If this is too much for you—and you’re lying or crazy if you don’t think it is—now’s the time to bow out. I won’t judge, promise.”

Alix waited, but no one moved past her to walk away. Not one of them.

This brought a full-blown grin to her face.

“All right, then what the hell are we waiting for? They want a fight, so we’re gonna fuckin’ give ‘em a fight! Let’s go!”

The remaining members answered her war cry enthusiastically, and Alix stepped aside to let them rush out first. Normally, she liked to be in the thick of things, but considering her condition…

There was a brief touch to her arm, and Alix glanced over, surprised to find Amanda was still with her. Alix raised her eyebrows, and Amanda gave her a hesitant smile.

“I’m sticking with you,” she said as they left the hideout. “My aim’s not exactly perfect, but I’ve been told I’m pretty good support when someone needs it.”

Ah. She was still worried about Alix. This made her want to scoff, but honestly? It was kind of sweet.

“Well I’ll watch your back if you watch mine, Red,” Alix said, raising a fist for Amanda to bump. She did so, a little clumsily, but they’d work on that later…once they got out of this mess.

As they dashed from the alley way to rush head-first into danger, Alix thought of Ladybug, and her question from before:

 _“But in agreeing to help us, you’re agreeing to_ help _us. Chat Noir included, you know. …Are you okay with that?”_

Alix frowned. Honestly? She wasn’t sure how to feel about the cat man right now. A part of her, the part that still burned with injustice, didn’t think that she would ever be able to forgive Chat Noir for betraying them. But, then again, a month out of commission was a long time to mellow out…and maybe, just maybe, Alix was just being stubborn. After all, the cat man had been on the straight and narrow since returning to Ladybug’s side, and Alix wasn’t stupid: she saw the way he looked at Ladybug. Perhaps his obvious feelings were enough to keep him out of trouble from now on…

Alix scoffed at herself. The goddamn mayor must’ve knocked something loose when he clocked her. She was going soft.

Oh well. Like she’d said before: they had more important things to worry about right now.

 

* * *

 

“Hya!” Camille cried, cracking her whip at the feet of an akuma that dared to stray too close. “Shoo, shoo!”

There was a sharp, predatory cry, and Pavone swooped in, raising his hang-glider in a threatening manner. The akuma hissed and fled, and Camille let out a sigh of relief. Thankfully, they weren’t too busy defending City Hall—Vixen’s clones were keeping many of the rampaging akumas busy, and the ones that did reach City Hall were promptly scared off by her and Pavone. This situation did not involve her as thoroughly as it would back in Italy, but still, she was happy to help, and to be reunited with her new friends…not to mention old ones…

Camille glanced over at Pavone, taking in the little changes as well as the big ones, like how much taller he had gotten. And though she never saw him laugh, he used to smile a lot more…but his frown lines were more prominent now, his face more drawn, pinched, like he had forgotten how to enjoy life. When had he lost his joy?

“…Pavone,” Camille said softly, switching to Italian, just in case. “Do…you know who I am?”

She watched Pavone blink. He didn’t look over at her.

“Why do you ask?”

Camille shuffled her feet, feeling uncertain. Was there any basis for the way she was feeling? She couldn’t be sure…but still, if she never asked, it would only gnaw at her and make her wish she had when the opportunity had presented itself…

“I feel like…” Goodness, she was speaking in her native tongue, and yet she was still unsure of how to phrase this. Feeling herself frown a little, she turned to Pavone, resting the hand that held her whip on her hip. “…it seems like you hold all the cards here. Like, you know everything.”

Pavone glanced up at the sky, tilting his head a little, as if he could see beyond the akuma swarm, into the cosmos above, as if the future was transcribed there, and he was just the messenger.

“…I don’t know _everything,_ ” he corrected, glancing down at Camille, his eyes widening slightly. “Just most everything.”

Camille giggled, unable to help herself. Maybe he hadn’t changed as much as she thought.

“As I thought,” she teased, bumping her hip against his. “You’re very sly for a peacock, you know. Perhaps you and Vixen should trade Miraculous? I know it bothers you to be so flashy all the time.”

Pavone shrugged.

“It’s a living. Helps that I don’t get paid much attention to with Team Miraculous running around.”

Ah, right. They were a team of four now, with the fox lady named Vixen that Camille hadn’t been properly introduced to. Ah well, they could exchange formalities later…provided they all got out of this mess unscathed first…

“…Pavone? May I ask you why you came to Paris?”

There was silence as Pavone looked away, into the distance, his cool blue gaze surveying the area for trouble. Camille merely watched him, taking him in again, as if she was getting to know a stranger rather than an ex-partner. It was so strange how familiar he still felt, despite the fact that they hadn’t worked together in years, not since she had left for America to study, and not since he had gone to France for whatever reason…

When he didn’t answer right away, Camille took a deep breath, gathering her courage as she stepped closer.

“Will you tell me? Please?”

Slowly, Pavone’s gaze shifted to her, almost sizing her up. Camille held her breath, waiting.

“…I wanted to help Adrien,” he admitted in a low voice, as if his reason was shameful. Camille blinked; this was _not_ the answer she was expecting.

Huh…so he _did_ know who she was…

“…You and Adrien don’t get along, I thought,” she said softly, reacting automatically to the quiet of the moment. At this, the corner of Pavone’s mouth twitched, and his expression grew wry.

“We don’t. And it’s my fault.” He let out a short breath, the corner of his mouth reversing direction, pulling down. “But still. I had to try.”

Camille bit her lip.

“Adrien doesn’t understand you,” she said, the words a quiet lament. Oh, if only these two stubborn men would just talk to each other…they were family, weren’t they? Why couldn’t they just work it out?

Pavone shrugged.

“It’s fine. He doesn’t have to understand me. I’m not here to be understood.” He straightened up, his frown becoming more pronounced. “But I had a hand in breaking his heart. I…regret that. So, if I can, I will do what I must to help him. That is why I’m here. To help.”

Camille frowned.

“But…you left for Paris before he did, right?”

“Yes, but I knew he’d return, one day. I had to be ready.”

“Does Adrien know all of this?”

Pavone closed his eyes.

“He doesn’t have to.”

“But if you would just explain—”

“Erika,” Pavone interrupted, and Camille snapped to attention, startled at the use of her civilian name. Pavone slowly opened his eyes, glancing over at her, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corner of his lips…though his eyes were unbearably lonely. “You’re a very sweet woman, and it was my privilege to work with you in Italy. Thank you for worrying about me.”

Camille sighed softly, returning the bittersweet smile. He didn’t want to talk about it. All right, then Camille would leave him alone. But she hoped, with all her might, that Pavone would be able to find the happiness he was working so hard to make sure Adrien achieved, one day.

In fact…

“So,” Camille began casually, her smile growing as she peered up into Pavone’s face. “The beautiful deputy mayor, eh?”

She was delighted when Pavone promptly flushed red and pointedly looked away.

“That’s…another story,” he grumbled gruffly. Camille grinned, waving her hand through the air.

“Then tell it, Pavone! We have all the time in the world right now! Go on, sing me a song of your love!”

“I take it back—you should’ve stayed in Italy.”

Camille laughed.

 

* * *

 

One thing was for sure: Emerald Shell was definitely getting the workout of his life as he and Vixen dodged and deflected and flipped and hopped their way around akumas. It wasn’t easy, but it kept them on their toes, covering each other’s weak spots when needed.

And, of course, the clones helped.

“This is bizarre,” he commented as he stood back to back with Vixen, fending off a particularly vicious akuma wielding a spiked bat with his shield. “I just watched myself double-team an akuma over there while I’m fighting over _here._ ”

“Phrasing,” Vixen snickered, whirling to trade places with him as Shell unbalanced the bat-swinging akuma—a few swift jabs later, and the akuma was down, dozing for the moment. “Still, it _is_ handy to have clones.”

“Too bad they disappear as soon as you touch them,” Shell reflected with a frown, tossing a lighter akuma over his shoulder when it lunged at him. “It’s…kinda freaky, how similar your powers are to Shade’s.”

“Yeah, but please note that I’m using my powers for _good._ ”

“I’m aware, babe,” Shell said, turning to smile at his fiancée, but the gesture was interrupted as a charging akuma came at them. “Watch it—”

“I got this. Look, watch—roundhouse!” Vixen cried, going into a spin, her leg poised to kick. Shell really wished she would stop having so much obvious fun, since literally anything could go wrong here, but he didn’t have time to warn her when another akuma was speeding their way. He warded it off with his shield, sighing under his breath. He really, _really_ hoped that Ladybug and Chat Noir found Shade soon, because this was getting ridiculous—

_CRACK._

Shell froze. What was—

Vixen screamed. Shell whirled around, his mind rapidly processed one thing:

Vixen’s leg in the akuma’s grasp, her foot twisted the wrong way.

Shell saw _red_. Before he knew it, he was charging forward, bashing his shield into the akuma. It jerked back, dazed, and Shell delivered a swift kick to its chest to send it toppling over, collapsing into the Seine. Its head broke the surface, sputtering and snarling, but it was rendered ineffectual for now. Breathing hard, Shell whirled around and crouched down next to his fiancée, who was clutching her ankle, her foot hanging at an awkward angle. Her breathing was shallow, and tears were gathering in the corners of her eyes, the sight piercing Shell.

“Oh god. Babe, hang on, I’m gonna take you to the hospital—”

“Look out!” Vixen suddenly cried; she flung her flute past Shell, thwacking an approaching akuma square in the face. As it cried out in outrage, grumpily rubbing its forehead, Shell yanked his shield over, raising it over them.

“Force Field: Activate!”

His faithful shield created a barrier around them, preventing any more akumas from getting close to them. Sadly, this only seemed to irritate them; they took to banging on the force field, as if brute force would grant them entrance. Within his own mind, Shell dryly wished them luck.

“Nino,” Vixen whimpered, clutching at him, and Shell’s arms immediately went around her.

“It’s okay. They won’t be able to get in, and I can keep this shield up as long as I need to. They’ll give up sooner or later.” Shell prayed that it would be sooner—Vixen’s face was twisted in extreme pain. He really, _really_ needed to get her to a hospital…

“My flute…” she muttered, and Shell grimaced, glancing at the instrument lying ignored upon the asphalt…outside of their protective dome. “I can’t make any more copies without it…”

“I know, but don’t worry about that now,” Shell shushed her, pushing her wild hair back from her face as the akumas continued to pound fruitlessly against the force field. “You’ve done enough. Just rest for now. I’ll get you to the hospital as soon as I can.”

“Do you think…” Vixen trailed off in a painful hiss, and Shell hated, hated, _hated_ that there was nothing he could do for her in this moment, to make it better. All he could do was hold her hand, which she squeezed so tight that Shell almost thought that she was trying to siphon off her pain through him. How he wished he could.

“Do I think what?” He urged to keep her talking, to give her something else to focus on, other than the pain. Vixen’s jaw was clenched tight; it was a moment before she could speak again.

“Do you think…that they’ll be all right?”

Shell didn’t need to ask who Vixen meant.

“They’ve been at this a lot longer than we have,” he pointed out, doing his best to smile. “They’ll figure a way out of this. They always do.”

Vixen groaned and closed her eyes.

“Ah…sorry, Nino. I fucked up.”

“You didn’t know the akuma would break your ankle.”

“True.” Vixen grimaced, scowling at the akumas pounding on the force field. “This is so uncool…but I guess I was too excited about saving the day.”

Shell chuckled, the sound strained.

“Shit happens,” he said, his arms tightening protectively around her as he locked eyes with one of the akumas and glared, just _daring_ them to break through, even though he knew they couldn’t. Lucky for them—Shell wasn’t exactly in a chill place right now.

“Fuck…I hope Camille and Pavone don’t have to deal with attacks just because I fucked up here—”

“We’ll worry about them later,” Shell insisted, doing his best to smile again for his injured partner. “Let’s just hope that LB and Whiskers find what they’re looking for.”

And soon—the faster this nightmare was over, the sooner Shell would be able to breathe easy again.

 

* * *

 

There it was, looming over him. Though the years had passed, and aged this place, it still stood so tall over him…casting a shadow he thought he had escaped…

But if that was true, then what did it mean that he stood here, before the rusted gates, looking up at the mansion that had become nothing more than a derelict building…and his heart trembled?

“Chat?”

Her voice always seemed to be the thing to ground him; Chat Noir blinked, glancing over to the lady at his side…his Lady. She was peering up at him in concern, blue eyes wide and worried.

“Are you okay?”

A question so innocent should not feel so heavy, and yet, whenever someone asked it of him, there was this mysterious weight that settled over him, as if answering wrong would cost him a lot more than his pride. Why was that?

Chat didn’t bother trying to smile, or to play off the tension of the moment with a stupid joke like he usually would. He felt, just as he was sure Ladybug did, that this was now endgame—if Shade really was waiting for them inside, then the outcome of this encounter would decide Paris’ fate. If they fell here…

Chat balled his hand into a fist, his ring catching his attention. He and Ladybug had taken a break to refuel, to make sure their kwamis were up to the task of defeating Shade before they proceeded. All five paw pads were present and accounted for on his ring, so he shouldn’t have anything to worry about…and yet he couldn’t stop himself from thinking of the last time he and Ladybug had run across Shade…or what they believed to be Shade at the time…

“…Ladybug?” He spoke softly, lowering his fist to stare through the bars of the rusted gate, to the mansion beyond. “If we find Shade in there…what will we do?”

Ladybug paused, as if to absorb the question fully before she answered.

“…We take her down,” she said after a moment, and Chat glanced over to find her determined gaze fixed on the mansion as well. “We’ve let her have the run of Paris for too long. It’s time to end this.”

“By any means necessary?”

Chat expected her eyes to flash, and to berate him for saying such a thing, because of course they shouldn’t _harm_ Shade if they could help it, because that’s not what heroes did—

Ladybug closed her eyes and took a deep breath, taking much longer than Chat was expecting to answer.

“…No,” she seemed to finally decide, turning to look up at him. Her eyes were tight. “Not if we can help it, anyway.”

He understood—despite the fact that they were superheroes, Shade was dangerous, and she had proven to be too much for them at times. He was really hoping that things wouldn’t come to this either, but…

He raised his right hand, making a fist.

“For luck,” he explained when Ladybug gave him an odd look. She smiled at that, loosing a small laugh.

“Luck. Right.” She bumped her fist against his. “Let’s hope luck is enough this time.”

“It’s always enough with you around, My Lady.”

She gave him a wink before her smile faded, her determined look returning.

“Ready to do this?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Then let’s go.”

Chat Noir obeyed the order, raising his clawed hand.

“Cataclysm!”

The rusted gate fell at their feet, and they dashed forward. Chat was anticipating some sort of resistance before they reached the doors, since they weren’t exactly being stealthy, but even as Ladybug kicked those in, there was nothing. The dust that had settled in the foyer swirled around them, making them sneeze, but though there were plenty of shadows that haunted the place…nothing stirred.

Chat took a few cautious steps inside, but he saw nothing moving as he glanced around. His eyes flicked upward, toward the last family portrait that hung in the hall, the one of him and his father. It was gone now, of course, packed away in storage somewhere, because Adrien couldn’t stand to look at it, but he couldn’t bear to have it destroyed, either. Now there was just empty space, that patch of wall a little less dingy than the rest. Conflicting emotions coursed through Chat at the sight, and he turned away.

“It’s quiet,” he remarked to Ladybug when she drew level with him, her eyes darting around in much the way they did when she was trying to figure out how to use a Lucky Charm to her advantage. She nodded her agreement, though a frown was present on her face.

“Seems that way…” She turned to Chat, and he saw the stubborn set of her jaw. “I want to look around a little, though. Just in case—”

“ _Are you looking for me?_ ”

Chat jumped back as something suddenly manifested from the shadows nearby. He threw out an arm to defend Ladybug as Shade appeared, her bright eyes narrowed.

“So you are here,” Ladybug growled, and Shade raised her hands, clapping out a mock applause.

“ _Well done, clever Bug. I suppose your hunches were always what made you a brilliant student._ ”

“We know this isn’t actually you,” Chat interrupted once he noticed the flash of pain cross Ladybug’s face. “Quit hiding behind your illusions!”

Shade fell silent, appearing to contemplate them for a long moment.

“ _…Very well,_ ” she answered, much to Chat’s surprise. He expected her shadow form to melt away right then and there, but she threw him off again by turning her back and gliding away.

“Hey!”

“ _Lower your voice, you snarling beast,_ ” she shot at him, turning to eye him. “ _If you wish to speak to me, you need only follow._ ”

She continued on her way, disappearing once she reached a door.

The door that led to his father’s old office.

Chat Noir swallowed, glancing over at Ladybug.

“It might be a trap,” he mumbled, because the walls probably had ears now.

Ladybug nodded her agreement, her eyes tight.

“I don’t like how willing she is to talk. Something’s up.”

“What do we do?”

Ladybug closed her eyes and folded her arms, frowning as she appeared to mull it over.

“We still need to stop her…and it isn’t like we’re defenseless,” she reasoned, opening her eyes to give Chat a firm look. “We follow…but stay on your guard.”

“Got it.”

Chat needed a moment before they entered the old office. So many memories threatened to creep up and overwhelm him, and so he took a deep breath, easing it out before he reached a clawed hand forward…and pulled open the door.

Aside from the soft glow from the lights above--likely another illusion, since Chat doubted that electricity was actually still running to this place--the office was just as he remembered it, the day Nathalie ordered everything essential to be packed up and taken away. He remembered standing there for the longest time, watching the movers leave behind things deemed inconsequential—his father’s books, the desk where he worked, old awards…and pictures. That whole day he still stood there, staring at the double doors, as if his father would waltz right in at any moment and throw a fit over his personal effects being disturbed…

But Gabriel Agreste was not here.

There was a stranger here instead, and though it had been a long time since Adrien had called this place home, seeing _her_ here still made him feel violated, like she was tainting sacred ground.

As he stood in the doorway glaring at her back, it was Ladybug who entered and spoke, for she had always been so much bolder than him:

“Desiree.”

The woman standing before the bookshelf turned, and it was jarring not to see her surrounded by shadows.

Instead, she looked the way a proper Miraculous user ought to look—her supersuit reminded Chat of a wizard’s robe, with a high collar, square shoulders, and billowing folds surrounding her long legs, completely black, save for the collar and her sleeves, which were a steel gray. She even had a scepter to complete the look…but as Chat squinted, he realized it didn’t fit with her outfit.

In fact, if the butterfly brooch attached just under her collar was familiar for a reason, it looked more like…

Shade’s face was hidden by a steel gray mask, the points at the ends coming down over her cheeks, like a snake’s fangs. Her dark eyes, normally so full of passion, were now cold—they narrowed at them as he and Ladybug stopped in the center of the room.

“Shade, if you please,” Shade spoke in that same soft, hissing voice her illusions were prone to. “You don’t see me being disrespectful and calling you ‘Marinette’, do you?”

Ladybug did not so much as flinch, as if she was determined not to show weakness now. Chat was proud of her.

“Why are you here of all places?” Chat wanted to know, fighting the nonsensical urge to chase her away from his father’s old books. Even if none of these things had been used in years, it still rubbed him the wrong way to have their enemy touch anything that used to belong to his father.

Shade’s gaze switched to him, and he felt an involuntary shiver run down his spine.

“…I suppose I’ll tell you, since it would be inaccurate to say that it’s none of your business.” Shade shifted her grip on something, and Chat, after squinting, realized that it looked like a book of some sort. “Tell me, Chat Noir…were you aware that your father knew of your superhero double-life?”

Chat stared at her.

“…What?” He said, because surely, he must have misheard her. There was no way that his father knew what he was up to. Sure, Adrien had occasionally gotten into trouble for not being where he was supposed to be in his youth, but his father had never known the _actual_ reason for those random disappearances…

But oh, wouldn’t it have been ironic? Hawk Moth getting upset at Chat Noir for not attending his fencing lessons and saving Paris instead…

“Don’t bother trying to trick us, Shade,” Ladybug cut in on Chat’s behalf, taking a defensive stance in front of him. “We know your specialty is lying.”

Shade smirked coldly.

“Oh, but I am not lying, Ladybug,” she said, and with her free hand, she lifted the book she had previously been cradling close to her chest. “See for yourself.”

She threw the book so that it fell open at their feet. Cautiously, because he still sensed a trap, Chat leaned over, squinting at the book in the low light of the office.

“‘Tuesday, March 7th, 8:15 P.M.—G. A. leaves his mansion, unaccompanied and unobserved from within the mansion. Assumed heading to secret hideout.’…What is this?” Chat asked sharply, lifting his gaze to glare at Shade. She slipped her hand under her chin and smirked at him, as if he was a mildly interesting television program.

“Keep reading—it gets better.”

Ladybug snatched up the journal, and Chat rose to read alongside her, his eyes flying rapidly across the page.

‘ _8:25 P.M.—An akuma appears to assault Paris. Name: ‘Ringleader.’ Gimmick: Snubbed circus performer turned Dark Side. Ability: Turning people into trick-turning animals._ ’

‘ _8:27 P.M.—C.N. spotted leaving the mansion by roof; presumably escaped through a window._ ’

C.N....

Chat’s eyes froze on the initials, the back of his neck tingling, because he knew all too well what they meant…

Beside him, Ladybug gave a sharp gasp.

“This is…this is your father’s journal, isn’t it?”

“Very good, Ladybug. Gold star,” Shade said mockingly, and Chat’s head snapped up to stare at her, his mouth open, because surely this couldn’t mean what he thought it meant, _surely_ he was mistaken—

“Where—where did you find this?” He croaked, his throat suddenly, inexplicably dry. Shade regarded him coldly, folding her arms around that strange scepter she still gripped.

“It belonged to my father, idiot. Where did you think I found it?”

She turned, unraveling her arms to smack the scepter into her free palm as she strolled in front of the bookshelves, so casual, as if they were merely discussing whether to go out or dine in for lunch.

“There is another version here, of course, but it’s useless—the truly important information was inked out of existence by Gabriel Agreste, but it doesn’t matter. That was merely a copy of my father’s notes, the journal he gave Hawk Moth as a show of good faith, when he named his terms.”

Shade paused, near the windows, her head tilted slightly to the side, as if she was contemplating something.

“For the longest time, I wondered why Hawk Moth would bother to trouble himself. My father was no big-name reporter—he possessed a keen eye, but what he lacked,” she laughed harshly, “was a lucky break. To his credit, he waited until he had enough substantial evidence before he came to Gabriel Agreste, but it was still so very foolish to reveal himself—it put him at the mercy of a dangerous supervillain. So I constantly wondered: why did he do it? And why would Gabriel Agreste, with all his influence and power, actually agree…?”

Shade turned on her heel, and now, her eyes were not so lifeless; rage bubbled just beyond, a fury building higher the lower her voice became.

“It took me much longer than it should have to understand, but I believe I have the answer now, despite the both of them being unable to tell us: for all their differences, your father and my father shared one single similarity: they dearly loved—and would therefore do anything for—their children.”

It felt like all the air in the room had suddenly disappeared, for all the good breathing was doing for Chat Noir right now. He wanted to cover his ears, to screw his eyes shut and turn away, run, for what he was hearing could not be true, Shade _had_ to be lying, there was _no_ way that all of this, _all of this_ _was_ —

“You’re mentioned in the journal, Chat Noir. Which means that my father had figured out your secret as well. Gabriel Agreste didn’t pay for my father’s silence to protect himself. He was protecting _you_.”

— _his fault._

All his fault.

There was warmth on his cheeks. Chat opened his eyes to find that Ladybug was gripping his face, her expression fierce.

“Don’t you dare!” She snarled at him, anxiety and anger warring in her eyes. “Don’t you _dare_ blame yourself for this! None of this is your fault!”

“Oh, but isn’t it, though?” Came Shade’s voice from behind Chat, coldly amused. “Who’s to say that Gabriel Agreste didn’t become Hawk Moth for the good of his son as well?”

“Shut up!” Ladybug spat, side-stepping Chat to glare at Shade. “I’m _sick_ of you! Taking all of this out on Chat Noir—it’s not like _he_ murdered your father!! Maybe he should’ve minded his own business!!”

Chat turned in time to see Shade’s smirk vanish. The tension in the room amped up a few notches as she and Ladybug had a staring contest, neither of them appearing to back down for a long minute…and then…

“…You know,” Shade began, tilting her head to the side in that unnatural, frightening way, “the funny thing is…I agree.” She slowly turned to stare out the window again, where chaos still reigned, even though they were isolated from it inside. “If my father had left well enough alone…maybe he’d still be alive.”

Chat watched, his fingers flexing, as Shade lifted the scepter, stroking the sphere on top.

“He was a foolish man, you see. He’d been beaten down too many times by the world, and my mother had had enough of him and his ‘idle dreaming’, because it didn't help to put food on the table. On the verge of divorce, he came to Paris, looking for a scoop of the superhero action to report on, and quickly grew frustrated when his reports were continuously turned away. The discovery of Hawk Moth’s secret was nothing more than dumb luck, and he intended to use it to his full advantage…but his heart bled a little too freely, you see. He saw the damage Hawk Moth caused, and came to the same conclusion as others did—in exchange for his silence, he was made an accomplice.”

Chat noticed the way Shade’s grip on the scepter tightened.

“…I was too young to see my father slumped over the desk in that damn hotel room, alone and refusing to wake up no matter what I did. He was courteous enough to leave behind a suicide note…but it was little comfort. And oh, as soon as the vultures you call reporters here discovered that doctored set of notes here…”

There was a sudden explosion of darkness from Shade; Chat cried out in surprise, shielding Ladybug, but the dark beams just passed by them, harmless. Like they were the result of a tantrum rather than meaning actual harm. Chat glanced over his shoulder to find Shade glaring at the pair of them, her chest heaving, her eyes wide and livid behind her mask.

“They blamed him,” she spat, casting shadows off her tongue as well, as if her anger was making her lose control of her powers. “‘What a terrible person’, they said, choosing money over decency, as if it would be _so easy_ to betray the most powerful man in Paris. They rejoiced in his death just as much as they rejoiced in Hawk Moth’s death, all too happy to have him share in the blame, to accuse him of being _human._ ”

Suddenly, she slammed the scepter into the bookshelf beside her with such force that it shook ominously. The sphere atop the scepter remained undamaged, and no books cascaded to the floor, but the show of force was still worrying enough that Chat kept his guard in front of Ladybug, warily watching as Shade gripped the scepter tightly once again.

“Paris and the Agrestes ruined my father’s life. I have waited  _years_ to put this plan into the motion, the minute I stole the Butterfly Miraculous. Now I will stop at nothing to ruin Paris…”

Her gaze flicked up, focusing only Chat—no, _Adrien_ —with cold fury.

“…and the Agrestes,” she finished.

Chat felt Ladybug’s hands grip his wrists. He looked down at her, and she was looking up at him, gesturing with her eyes for him to move aside. The look on her face wasn’t scary, but still firm enough that he felt himself obey automatically, though he looked on with apprehension as she took a few more steps forward, her shoulders squared as she faced Shade. Chat didn’t need to see her face to know how determined she must look as she said,

“…I’m sorry, Desiree. I’m sorry that you lost your father that way, and I’m sorry Paris was so callous about it. I won’t make excuses for our behavior, because I know you probably won’t want to hear them. But I can’t—I _can’t_ let you do this. This won’t make you happy, Desiree. Even if you achieve your revenge…you won’t be happy. You’ll just be hollow.”

Shade sucked her teeth.

“What a heroic thing to say. It almost makes me sick. Tell me, Marinette—what do you know of what would make _me_ happy?”

“Amanda,” Ladybug said quietly, and Chat was startled to see Shade _flinch._ “You can’t tell me she didn’t mean anything to you. I saw how you two were together. Is all of this really worth it? Would you be happy to know that she was hurt during your rampage through the city?”

Shade looked away, but her grip on the scepter grew tighter still.

“…I told Amanda to leave,” she said in a low voice that suggested the barest hint of vulnerability. “I told her it wasn’t safe. She's been under my influence all this time, whether she knows it or not, so there is no way she wouldn't heed me. She can’t still be here. She _can’t_ be.”

“Desiree—”

Ladybug took a step forward, probably believing that she might be getting through to Shade, but she was mistaken—Shade jumped back with a furious hiss, as if it offended her for Ladybug to stray so close.

“I’ve already decided,” she hissed, glaring fiercely. “I won’t be swayed. Paris will pay, and if you interfere, then it’s on your own heads. In fact—” she bared her teeth at Chat, “feel free to pursue me. It’ll only mean me killing two birds with one stone.”

“Desiree!” Ladybug cried, but the name fell on deaf ears as Shade shattered the window behind her, leaping out and up. Chat and Ladybug ran to the destroyed window in time to see her leap over the wall, disappearing from sight. Chat swore, clearing broken glass from the sill before he jumped up onto it.

“We have to go after her,” he growled, the muscles in his legs bunching, ready to spring—

“Chat, wait.”

A hand on his shoulder stayed him, and he turned to look at Ladybug, who was regarding him in concern again.

“Are you okay?”

Déjà vu.

For a moment, Chat allowed himself to search his feelings. The shock of discovering that both his father and some stranger had ferreted out his secret…the tumultuous confusion that came with hearing the assumption that his father had been paying to protect _his_ identity…the ever-present anger that Gabriel Agreste had even _left_ him in this mess with absolutely no explanation other than his nonsensical dying words…and just…sadness. So much aching sadness…

Chat Noir took a deep breath…and shook his head.

“No,” he answered, blinking back the emotions that pushed at his eyes. “No, I’m not okay. But we’ll deal with that later—we can’t let Shade get away.”

Ladybug bit her lip, looking like she wanted to protest…but after a second, she seemed to realize the greater priority in this moment, for she sighed and nodded, climbing up onto the sill with him and sending out her yo-yo.

“You’re right…let’s go, then.”

“We’ll talk later,” Chat promised, the irony of the situation causing a wry grin to spread across his face. Ladybug caught his look and returned the gesture helplessly. After all, a superhero’s work never seemed to be done, did it?

“Later,” she agreed.

 

* * *

 

Her breath was ragged, muscles straining, crying out for relief. Her transformation wouldn’t wear off anytime soon, but she was still feeling the strain.

But Ladybug refused to falter. She couldn’t afford to. Not when they were here, so close, on Shade’s trail, on the verge of finally stopping her madness, once and for all—

“Jump!”

She heeded the warning, and was saved the trouble of falling down into an alley—her eyes were glued to Shade’s back, and so she hadn’t noticed that she was about to run out of building. Good thing she had a second pair of eyes around.

“Thanks, Chat,” she called to him, smiling as he sent her a wink.

“No problem, My Lady…you wanna try a Lucky Charm here?”

“Only if we run out of options…you can’t run forever, Shade!” Ladybug cried after their target, who was a whole rooftop ahead of them, surprisingly agile in that cumbersome robe she was wearing. As if she had to concede to Ladybug’s point, she suddenly stopped, whipping around to face them with a wicked grin.

“You’re right,” she agreed, and Ladybug’s stomach suddenly plunged as she watched Shade twist the ring on her finger. “How about instead of just a game of Tag, we make it more interesting?”

“Don’t—!” Ladybug tried to protest, but it was too late—throwing out her arms, Shade summoned several different copies of herself, each of them shadow clones. For a second, this confused Ladybug. After all, it was too easy to tell which Shade was the real one like this—

But then the original Shade immersed herself in shadow as well, and she and the four clones spun around them so quickly that Ladybug quickly lost track of the real one, groaning in despair when the five shadows darted off in different directions. Chat cursed under his breath, his head snapping this way and that in an attempt to keep track of all of them.

“Shit…should we split up and try and take them down individually?”

A terrifyingly vivid image of Chat Noir being strangled to death by a giant snake invaded Ladybug’s vision, and she swiftly shook her head.

“No.”

“Then…” Chat glanced over at her questioningly. “Lucky Charm time?”

Ladybug took a breath. This would only make her transformation wear out faster…but if they got something that would actually help them in this situation…

Realizing that she didn’t have much of a choice, Ladybug tossed her yo-yo into the air.

“Lucky Charm!”

‘ _Please be something good, please be something good, please—_ ”

Her prayers to the powers that be were answered—from out of the charm popped a red and black-spotted flashlight.

“Yes!” Ladybug cried, lifting it in celebration.

“Hope it doesn’t need batteries,” Chat grumbled, but he appeared relieved as soon as Ladybug flicked the switch, and the flashlight turned on without any trouble.

“Awesome,” Ladybug cheered before turning to glare at the fleeing visions of Shade. “We’re gonna have to get close enough to be able to tell, though…”

“Leave it to me,” Chat assured her, squeezing her shoulder before he took off after the nearest vision, vaulting over rooftops with his pole. Ladybug followed him, staying close as he pursued their enemy. He dropped down and made a _ridiculous_ yowling noise when he landed in front of the Shade vision, who grew startled and hissed at him, and Ladybug’s heart jumped into her throat. Surely an illusion couldn’t be _that_ convincingly human, right…?

“Hey, Shade!” She cried, dropping down behind her. Shade whirled around in time for Ladybug to flash the light directly in her face—

She shrieked…and then vanished.

“ _Damn_ it!” Ladybug growled.

“Don’t give up!” Chat called as he started running again, already chasing after a new target. “We still have four more to go!”

“Well who’s to say she won’t just keep trying the same trick over and over again?” Ladybug asked as she took to the air beside him. Chat’s response was interrupted by the beeping of his Miraculous, followed by hers not a second later. They both glanced at each other’s Miraculous, and then at each other’s faces.

“…Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it,” Chat decided grimly, and Ladybug silently vowed to move as fast as she could while following him. They were always on a time limit, but today, it was more crucial than ever that they beat the clock.

Every clone of Shade they faced off against grew fiercer than the last. The second time, it was not so easy to sneak up on it: as if it sensed that they were there, it whirled on them and morphed into that giant snake form Ladybug hated, hissing and snapping at them so that they had to be constantly on the move in order for it not to catch them. It somehow got the drop on Ladybug, landing its full weight on her and nearly crushing her before Chat body-slammed into it. However, this illusion took a lot longer to dissolve than the others, so Ladybug had to toss her flashlight to Chat to break free from under it.

The third was worse—it melted into the shadows on the roof of the building, so that Ladybug and Chat Noir had to remain back to back so they wouldn’t be snuck up on. It was too close a call—Ladybug only just noticed it flying out of the shadows, fangs exposed, ready to attack her at the last minute. It got a full flash of light in the face, and was no more, but Ladybug’s heart continued to race as they moved on to their next target, spurred on by the second chirp of her Miraculous.

The fourth picked up a new trick—any time they tried to get near enough to get it with the flashlight, it screamed that same blood-curling scream the akumas used to use when Chat Noir and Ladybug had gotten too aggressive with one of the akumatized victims. The scream was disorienting, and it took Ladybug and Chat Noir several tries to actually subdue that clone, and at that point, they had lost track of the fifth one, who _must_ be Shade. As they swung around the neighborhood, searching for her, dread settled within Ladybug.

No…they couldn’t lose her again. If they did, what would happen to Paris? To its people?

If they failed here…would _France_ even survive it…?

“There!”

Ladybug’s head snapped to where Chat Noir’s clawed hand pointed, and sure enough, there she was, fleeing across a nearby roof…heading straight for City Hall. Ladybug angled her body towards Shade, not even pausing in her swing as she readied her flashlight, speeding ahead of Chat. If she could just blind Shade long enough, they’d be able to take her down and maybe wrestle her free of both Miraculous—

“HEY SHADE!”

Shade turned, and Ladybug flashed her directly in the eyes. Shade cried out, stumbling—

Her foot caught the lip of the roof. Ladybug watched, her eyes widening, as Shade pitched backward over the edge—

No.

_Not again._

“NO!!!” Ladybug cried; unthinkingly, she released her hold on her yo-yo, disregarding everything that was not one singular thought: ‘ _Save Desiree._ ’

She snatched Shade’s wrist just as her body made contact with the roof. Her weight combined with Shade’s threatened to drag her forward after Shade; she seized the lip of the roof with her free hand, but her grip on Shade slipped to the point where she was only holding her fingers, the ring Shade wore coming loose—

“No!” Ladybug shouted again when her grip on Shade was lost; she lashed out with her free hand, catching her again, even as they both dangled dangerously off the roof. Ladybug’s eyes squeezed shut with the effort of holding them both in place even as she slowly felt herself being dragged down as well, praying with all her might that Chat would reach them in time—

“What the hell are you doing?!”

Ladybug opened her eyes to retort, but was distracted by a silver mask and a purple supersuit—

_She was looking at Hawk Moth._

No…wait…not Hawk Moth, but…

Shade’s ring was in Ladybug’s hand, so therefore, that transformation had come undone, but she had somehow forgotten that, in order for the akumas to be active, that the _Butterfly_ had to be active as well.

The Butterfly glared up at her now, wiggling in her grasp, as if she _wanted_ to kill them both.

“Let go of me, idiot!” She snapped, thrashing in Ladybug’s grip. “If you don’t, we’ll _both_ fall to our deaths!”

“No!” Ladybug ground out, even as she felt her abdomen slide over the edge; her hips would soon follow suit, and then they would both fall… “I won’t let go!”

“Don’t be stupid!” The Butterfly mocked her, glaring up at her. “You’re about to be rid of your villain for good! Fitting, isn’t it? That I would die just like Hawk Moth? So what’s stopping you from just leaving me to my fate? Some hero _you_ are!”

“You’re wrong!” Ladybug bothered to correct her, even if now was not the time for talking; it was like she couldn’t help it. “I don’t want to win this way! That’s not what being a hero’s about, and neither my suit, nor letting the villain die makes me a hero!”

“That’s right.”

There was a strong grip around her, and a hand joined hers, closing over Shade’s wrist. Both startled and relieved, Ladybug looked over to find Chat Noir with her, his eyes focused as he worked on slowly pulling them back up onto the roof, gritting his teeth a little.

“It’s not the suits that make us heroes,” he grunted as he pulled. “It’s our compassion—even for our enemies—that make us heroes.” He caught her gaze and managed a grin. “Right, My Lady?”

He had come so far. Ladybug could have cried, could have kissed him, could have done both…but sadly, they both had more important things to worry about.

“Right,” she agreed. And, together, once Ladybug gained her balance back, they dragged the Butterfly back over the edge, and onto the roof. As Ladybug panted from adrenaline and exertion, Chat pulled out both her Lucky Charm flashlight and her yo-yo, the two items she’d abandoned after launching herself through the air to save Desiree. Ladybug accepted the yo-yo back and quickly circled it around the Butterfly, ensuring that she wouldn’t be fleeing anywhere else…not that she was trying to. Huh…weird…

When Ladybug moved back to admire her work, she noticed the Butterfly staring at her, her expression…uncomprehending.

“…Why?” She whispered, her eyes dull once again as she stared at Ladybug, as if her fury was the only thing keeping her alive. “Why couldn’t you just let me die…?”

“…” It was ridiculous that Ladybug almost wanted to _apologize_ in this moment. Once upon a time, Desiree was her friend, and even now, it still hurt to see her looking so miserable…

But those days were over now. It no longer mattered what Desiree wanted.

All Ladybug could do…was her job.

She leaned over, keeping Desiree’s gaze for one long moment…and then she pulled the Butterfly Miraculous from her chest. Instantly, the transformation broke…and Desiree was herself again. What was left of her, in any case.

“This isn’t yours,” she said quietly. Somehow, Desiree managed to pull her lips into a smile, though it was obvious her heart wasn’t in it.

“I always knew you’d do great things.” Her smile grew sad. “I told you so.”

“She was always great,” Chat cut in, resting a hand on Ladybug’s shoulder. “You’re not telling her anything new.” Ladybug turned to him, and he handed over her flashlight, smiling. “Ready to put the world back the way it was?”

The city had grown quiet, the cries of akuma absent. The swarm that had been blocking the sun was dissipating, as if the akumas were reluctant to go. Determined to speed their progress along, Ladybug tossed the flashlight up into the air.

“Miraculous Ladybug!”

The magical ladybugs careened around the city, fixing any and all damage caused by the akumas in the last twenty-four hours. Ladybug watched their progress for a while, a huge sense of relief washing over her before another noise caught her attention—babble. People were beginning to gather outside of City Hall, emerging from cars, nearby buildings and City Hall itself, watching the progress of the ladybugs as they healed Paris. Once they replaced the top of the Eiffel Tower, Ladybug was satisfied. Chat grinned in response to her smile, moving to the edge of the roof and extending his pole.

“Ready to be adored by your fans for saving the day once again?” He joked, climbing onto the pole and extending a hand for Ladybug to take. She snorted at him, glancing over her shoulder at a despondent Desiree before she turned back to him, placing the Butterfly Miraculous in his outstretched hand. (The Snake Miraculous she held onto for now, because she wasn’t quite sure what to do with it…she would ask Master Fu another time.)

“Make sure to hold onto it this time,” she said dryly, and Chat Noir cringed.

“I’ll do my best.”

Slinging Desiree over her shoulder, Ladybug held tight to Chat Noir as he slipped an arm around her.

“Going down,” he joked, and his pole lowered them to the ground, their feet making contact with the pavement just as the police arrived.

“Here,” Ladybug said, unwinding her yo-yo from Desiree and turning her over, into their custody. “You all can finally rest easy—the Butterfly’s finally been caught.”

“That butterfly’s a bit bigger than the ones you’re used to saying goodbye to, though,” Chat muttered in her ear, and Ladybug playfully elbowed him in the gut with a smirk and an indulgent roll of her eyes.

As she watched the police put Desiree in the back of one of the police vehicles, there was a sharp gasp somewhere nearby. Ladybug turned, and her heart sank as she recognized Amanda, her hands covering her mouth as her eyes welled with tears. Glancing back at the car, Ladybug noticed Desiree stare at Amanda for a long moment…before she turned away, her curtain of dark hair hiding her face from view.

Oh…why couldn’t Desiree have lived her life trying to make herself happy instead of being consumed by revenge? Her story could have turned out so differently…

“Whoo-hoo! I knew you could do it, Lady Luck!”

Distracted from this particular tragedy, Ladybug turned, smiling in relief once she spotted Vixen and Emerald Shell touching down near them, Vixen barreling past the police barricade that was being set up around them to keep the citizens from getting too close. She headed right for Ladybug, pulling her into a crushing hug that Ladybug returned two-fold.

“I’m so glad you’re all right,” Ladybug sighed, pulling back to grin at her best friend. Vixen made a face, scratching the side of her head.

“I’ll admit, things got a little hectic for a while, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle. Shush,” she added to Emerald Shell, who was passing by and giving her a paticular look that Ladybug didn’t understand. Whatever the issue was, he seemed to let it drop, shrugging as he pulled Chat Noir in for a hug of his own.

“Good to see you in one piece, dude.”

“Same.” Ladybug watched as Chat seemed to remember something; he stepped back, holding out his hand. “So…this is for you.”

“Whoa,” Shell muttered, carefully handling the Butterfly Miraculous as if it were a precious treasure. “So _this_ is the thing that’s been causing us so much trouble?”

There was an abrupt flash, and quite suddenly, a kwami that Ladybug had never seen before appeared…but it could only be the kwami of the Butterfly Miraculous. Nooroo.

“I’m…so sorry…” the tiny creature apologized, looking more haggard than any kwami Ladybug had ever seen before; pity washed through her at the sight of its exhaustion. “I didn’t mean…I never meant…”

“Whoa, dude, shhh,” Shell hushed it, looking concerned as he carefully stroked the head of the pitiable creature. “I wasn’t blaming you directly—I know you probably wouldn’t have had anything to do with all this if you had a choice. Just…rest for now, okay? It won’t be for a long while, but I guarantee that the next time you get a Chosen, it’ll be the gentlest person imaginable. Okay?”

Ladybug felt her heart ache at the way Nooroo closed its eyes, as if relieved that it was being allowed to do something as simple as sleep.

“…Thank you…”

Nooroo sparkled with a violet light…and then faded away into nothing. Ladybug looked away, unable to help how responsible she felt. If only she had made sure to get the Butterfly Miraculous back to Master Fu the first time…

“…There’s another Miraculous you have to look after too, Shell…”

Ladybug’s head snapped up in time to watch Chat Noir reach for his ring, as if he meant to remove it.

“No!” She cried, moving around Vixen to jump in between Emerald Shell and Chat Noir. “Chat, you can’t—”

“I promised, Ladybug,” Chat reminded her with a sad smile. “You were there at the press conference, remember?”

Ladybug opened her mouth to argue—because he _couldn’t_ quit, not after everything they had been through! Who cared what Paris thought?! She wanted to keep her partner!

“All right,” Shell said behind her, and Ladybug whipped around to give him a look of betrayal. He refused to look at her, however, and instead, reached over her head—damn _both_ of their heights!—to take Chat Noir…by the shoulder. “Let’s figure out where you stand, then.”

Chat blinked, clearly uncomprehending.

“Huh?”

“Come on,” Shell urged, tugging Chat after him, towards the police barricade. They allowed them through and Shell led Chat up the stairs of the City Hall. Ladybug made to follow them, to stop this, but Vixen grabbed her.

“Hold up,” she bade Ladybug when she shot her a look that accused her, too, of being a traitor. She frowned after them as Shell waved for quiet. “Trust my boy for a second…”

“Citizens of Paris!” Shell called to the crowd as Ladybug stood there, grinding her teeth while shackled to Vixen, “the time has come to decide! A while ago, Chat Noir made you a promise—that if he could not prove to be the hero you needed, he would surrender his Miraculous. Well, now we’re here: the villain’s been defeated, and almost all of you have either seen with your own eyes, or heard through the grapevine, what Chat Noir has done for this city!”

Shell paused, looking over the crowd.

“Who here will stand with him?”

Ladybug watched, not breathing, as the crowd stirred, the citizens muttering amongst themselves. Chat lowered his gaze to the ground, and Ladybug _ached_ , wishing to fill that empty space next to him, even though it wasn’t her place. But this wasn’t _fair_! If _no_ one would defend him, then—!

“I will.”

Chat’s head snapped up at the same time Ladybug gasped, and she clutched at Vixen’s arm when one very tall, broad figure strode forward, and though his back was to Ladybug, he was instantly recognizable—

Ivan.

Ladybug was quite sure that he should’ve been off on his honeymoon by now…but she was so, _so_ glad he was here instead.

Emerald Shell grinned.

“You will?”

“Sure,” Ivan confirmed, and he climbed the stairs easily, clapping a large hand on Chat Noir’s shoulder. “I know how hard he’s been working. He deserves to stay.”

Chat gave Ivan a look so grateful that it seemed to make the gentle giant blush; he cleared his throat, his smile a bit embarrassed.

“Me, too,” said another voice, and this time it was Myléne, stepping forward. “I…kind of owe you an apology. So the least I can do to start is to stand with you now.”

That seemed to be enough to encourage the others to step forward, first one by one, and then in groups, and then in _droves._ Ladybug grinned through her tears, watching as the citizens of Paris finally accepted Chat Noir again, her relief so strong it threatened to swallow her whole. Sure, there were some that remained stubborn—Alix in particular turned her back and folded her arms, but Ladybug could see from here that she looked a little uncomfortable, as if her heart wasn’t in this rejection of Chat’s redemption. But still, it was easy to forget the others in light of so many that willingly went to him, Camille eagerly hugging him in joy when she was close enough. Pavone kept his distance, which Ladybug was glad for—she was still very irritated with him—but all the love and support surrounding her boyfriend was overwhelming, and she cried for him.

Vixen rubbed at her wet cheeks, giving her that indulgent, mothering look she was so adept at.

“Oh, hun,” she laughed in a “you’re hopeless” fashion. “If I had a euro for every tear you’ve shed over that boy…”

“These are happy tears,” Ladybug insisted, quickly drying her face before anyone saw. Vixen grinned and shrugged.

“If you say so. _Now_ you can go over there.”

Not needing another prompt, Ladybug swung her way over, dropping into the circle that surrounded Chat Noir.

“Ladybug!” Chat crowed, so pleased to see her, as if it had been years. He slipped his arms around her, grinning so wide that it sort of looked like it hurt. “They like me, they really like me!”

Ladybug giggled, her hands resting on his shoulders. Her Miraculous chirped, signaling that she—and probably Chat—should really get somewhere safe to de-transform, but at the moment, she didn’t care. They had time. And they had each other.

“They may like you, _chaton_ ,” she said, lowering her voice, for these words were for Chat’s ears only. “But I love you.”

Chat’s gaze softened, as did his grin.

“And I, you, My Lady.”

He leaned in, closing the distance between them for a kiss so sweet that Ladybug found herself tearing up again, and pulling him closer. Finally, the nightmare was over, and they were free to do…well, whatever they wanted.

The crowd cheered, someone yelled something about their ship finally sailing, and Vixen could be distinctly heard, crying, “Get a room!”

Ladybug ignored her, as well as the rest of the crowd, as if they weren’t even there.

All that mattered to her right now was Chat Noir, this kiss, and the feeling of being totally, completely, and deliriously happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words cannot adequately express how thankful I've been to everyone who gave this story a chance.
> 
> Thank you to the readers who were interested enough to take a peek before BTU got crazy popular.
> 
> Thank you to the readers who were enticed by amazing fan-art inspired by this story.
> 
> Thank you to the readers who cautiously tread forward, wary but willing to give this a chance.
> 
> Thank you to the readers who scream constantly in the comments and theorize what might happen next and go to my tumblr to scream more in my inbox.
> 
> Thank you to the readers who have remained silent, hidden in the shadows, but still enjoying the story.
> 
> Whoever you are, whatever kind of reader you might be, I want to thank you.
> 
> Thank you for journeying this far with me. Thank you for sticking with me to the very end.
> 
> And thank you, thank you, thank you for reading. <3
> 
> ~Reyna


	37. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .....
> 
> LISTEN.
> 
> Just because I told you not to ask about it doesn't mean I wasn't going to add an epilogue.
> 
> So stop giving me those looks and just enjoy the real last chapter. XP
> 
> ~Reyna

“Quiet night.”

“Were you expecting otherwise?”

“Nah. Just seems kind of pointless to have us all out here when we know there’re no supervillain shenanigans going on, you know?”

“What, you don’t like hanging out as our superhero personas?”

“Stop putting words in my mouth! No, what I _mean_ is that having us all together seems, well…a _little_ OP, doesn’t it?”

Chat Noir shrugged, ruffling his shaggy blonde hair. He needed another haircut, Ladybug mused. Maybe she’d do it for him.

“I don’t exactly mind,” he said, leaning forward to let his hands rest on his crossed ankles. “Discourages a lot of people from doing bad things if they know we patrol frequently, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, not like we’re gonna go the ‘Justice Gods’ route and start ruling over Paris with an iron fist. Too much work,” Emerald Shell commented with an exaggerated gesture of wiping sweat from his brow. Vixen bumped her shoulder against his.

“Nerd.”

“Hey, you married this nerd.”

“I’m not complaining…mostly because this nerd has a really big d—”

“Keep it in the bedroom, you two,” Ladybug interrupted before the two of them could get hot and heavy right there on the Eiffel Tower. Vixen turned and gave her a wink.

“Oh, like you’ve never wanted a piece of this.”

“Are you talking about you or Shell?”

“Why not both?” Vixen reasoned, and Ladybug snorted.

“Well, as much fun as I think a threesome with you two would be—”

“Hey!” Chat interrupted with a pout. “Why am I getting excluded?”

“No offense, dude,” Shell spoke up with a wink in a finger gun, “but between the three of us, we’d probs break you in about five minutes.”

Chat grinned.

“You wanna bet?”

Shell opened his mouth, a challenging gleam in his gold eyes—

“HEEEELP!!!”

All four of them snapped to attention, squinting in the distance. Two dots were running across the street it looked like, with a third dot chasing them. Chat whipped out his baton, and Ladybug leaned over as his baton’s camera zoomed in to get a better picture of what was happening.

“Thieves,” she concluded, seeing the stolen items they were hoisting under their arms as they fled the scene. “Well, looks like we’ll have some work to do after all—”

“Girl, we’ve got this,” Vixen said, pressing down on Ladybug’s shoulder to keep her from getting up as she got to her feet. “You and Tiger sit back and let the rookies take care of this.”

“I don’t know if you qualify for rookie status after doing this for a year,” Ladybug commented, but Vixen shrugged her off.

“Whatever. Point is, don’t worry about it. Your boutique opens early tomorrow, doesn’t it? You should get home and get some sleep soon.”

“Yes, Mom,” Ladybug called after her with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. Vixen blew her a kiss as she clambered onto Shell’s back, his hover board taking them low enough for her to jump to the ground safely as they chased the thieves down. Ladybug leaned back, inhaling the sweet night air.

“Can you believe it’s already been a year?” Chat said softly, moving closer to her. Ladybug smiled, leaning against him.

A whole year since Shade was defeated. A whole year since they finally gained peace…well, after a time. There was still the Anti-Akuma Taskforce to account for, a few of its members remaining stubborn even though there was nothing _to_ protest anymore. On the other hand, the members of AVA seemed to be adjusting well; from what Marinette heard, Ivan was helping many of them deal with the trauma they all shared, but couldn’t quite put into words on their own. She was particularly satisfied to hear that Amanda was moving on with her life as well, turning her misfortune in love into a best-selling autobiography. Honestly, good for her—even though a part of Ladybug that was still somehow attached to her favorite professor felt ashamed of Desiree’s sins being put on display, if it helped Amanda gain closure, then it was important.

And then there was the matter of the Snake Miraculous, which Master Fu said he had taken care of—apparently, he knew a hero in America who had been willing to take ownership of such a dangerous Miraculous. What was her name again…Phoenix?

Either way, a year without akumatized victims was a good year in Ladybug’s book.

“Sometimes I can,” she said, replying belatedly to Chat’s question. “Sometimes I can’t. Time’s weird that way.”

“Mm.”

They stayed that way for a while, in peaceful silence, the night breeze caressing their faces.

“…Oh hey, Shell was telling me and Vix before you showed up—he Chose someone to take on the Butterfly Miraculous.”

Ladybug lifted her head from Chat’s shoulder, blinking in surprise.

“Really?”

“Mm-hm,” Chat hummed with a grin.

“Who?”

 

* * *

 

“Hi! Sorry, I know I’m late,” Bridgette apologized as soon as she stepped in the door, looking harried as she yanked the keys out of the door, a stack of documents under her other arm. “Now I know why Fantoche always made being mayor look so easy—he was pushing all his work onto _me_ this whole time!”

Felix chuckled under his breath, reclining in his chair on the veranda as he carefully sipped at his wine. True, she was about ten minutes late, but it wasn’t a problem—dinner was still warm, and it wasn’t too late, so they could still have a lovely evening together.

Bridgette dropped her work on the coffee table inside, grabbing the mail as she inhaled appreciatively.

“Mmm. That smells good! What did you make?”

“Chicken parmigiana with penne pasta,” he answered, preening just a little. He knew himself to be a good cook, of course, but it was always much better when he had someone to share those cooking skills with.

Bridgette sat down across from him, and he obliged her in pouring her a glass of white zinfandel.

“This looks wonderful, Felix, thank you,” she said, giving him a bright smile before shuffling quickly through the mail. “I just want to make sure I don’t miss another letter from Erika; she was so sad when we didn’t get the last one, and I think I got the mailing address problem figured out now that we’re registered as living together, but—oh!”

Felix blinked as something fell out of the stack of mail Bridgette was shuffling through, his eyes narrowing when she picked up a small, black, unmarked box.

“Huh…what’s this?”

“Damn it, Nino,” he grumbled, only to regret it when Bridgette’s eyes flashed to him.

“What’d you say?”

“Nothing.”

 

* * *

 

“…You know, he never got around to telling us,” Chat realized, frowning a bit at that, before he shrugged. “Oh well—whoever he picked, I’m sure they’re the right fit.”

“I hope so. Poor Nooroo’s been through enough, but…” Ladybug frowned. “Don’t you think we have enough Miraculous users running around? I mean, there’s us, and of course _Felix_ shows his face every now and again…”

Chat registered the venom that was spoken with Felix’s name, and he raised an eyebrow under his mask.

“Are you still mad at him?”

Ladybug huffed, folding her arms, her nose scrunching. It was cute…but Chat didn’t dare say so out loud, for fear that she’d accuse him of not taking her seriously.

“…Well,” she began slowly, as if she was just now trying to suss out exactly how she felt about Felix. “I’m annoyed about what he said to you to make you change, and the fact that he didn’t tell us that he knew about us not just when he saved us from falling, but the _whole damn time…_ but it seems kind of pointless for me to be mad, considering you’re not anymore. …Hey, remind me why you’re not mad at him anymore?”

Chat snorted and rolled his eyes.

“I can only be mad at one family member at a time,” he said, his smirk fading as he thought of his father. “Besides…even though he _really_ sucks at expressing himself…he’s kind of the only family I have left who actually gives a damn about me.”

Ladybug bumped her shoulder against his, and he turned to see her frowning.

“You have me,” she reminded him, as if he could ever forget. “And Nino and Alya, too. We’re your family now.”

Chat smiled at this. They were, huh? Didn’t matter that they weren’t connected by blood—they were just as close as any blood family would be, and Chat wouldn’t have it any other way.

‘ _Well,_ ’ he amended in his head as he gazed at the woman he loved, looking as beautiful as ever as the moonlight threw her into a spectacular spotlight, ‘ _there_ is _one other way I’d have it…_ ’

“…Let’s go home,” Chat decided, getting to his feet. This decision appeared to surprise Ladybug, but she got up as well, unhooking her yo-yo from her hip.

“Sure, but…any particular reason we have to go right this second?”

“Nah, not really,” Chat assured her, extending his pole as he thought of the princess-cut diamond ring stuffed into a pair of socks in his dresser, marked only by the lucky charm she had given him all those years ago… “Just wanna get your opinion on something before we go to bed tonight.”

Ladybug slid him a suspicious look from the corner of her eye.

“…Adrien, we already have two grand pianos,” she reminded him, and Chat held in his laugh of relief that she hadn’t figured it out. “If you _say_ you want to buy another one—”

“We have two _downstairs,_ ” Chat corrected her with a grin at her aggrieved look. “I teach with those, but if we had one _upstairs_ —”

“Adrien—”

“—then I could serenade you before we go to bed, too!”

She shook her head.

“You’re ridiculous.”

Chat leaned over, his grin getting cheekier.

“You love me anyway.”

Ladybug sighed in an exaggerated fashion, but she smiled at him a second afterwards.

“I suppose I do.” She stretched up, kissing his cheek and flicking his bell in the same motion before she swung away. “Catch me if you can, _chaton!_ ”

Chat laughed, following eagerly, happy to play this game of Cat and Bug, now that he knew the Bug actually wanted to be caught.

Paris glittered and winked at them from below, peaceful and beautiful and undisturbed for one whole year to this day.

They were going for a record of seven years, at the very least.

After all, it _was_ the luckiest number.

 

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, NOW it's over.
> 
> Also, no sequel. I'm serious. Don't ask.
> 
> Once again, thank you for all the support you've given me, and I hope you all will be pleased with my original work as well. Either way, thank you for reading!!! <3
> 
> ~Reyna


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